Sidle On Down To Sara's Place
by Bella Winter Rose
Summary: Home for her half-brother’s wedding, Sara tries to avoid matchmaking parents, flimsy bridesmaids, cocktail hour and someone she’d never expect to see at a nuptial event—Grissom. COMPLETE!
1. Sara

In 1967, newlyweds Phil and Eavan Sidle purchased a run-down B&B in Tamales Bay, California from an elderly gentleman who had neither the strength nor the funds to continue to support such a grand estate. The B&B was named Sara's Place, after the elderly gentleman's late wife. He informed the Sidles of his plans to move in with his daughter in Florida and the sooner he sold, the better.

It was a colonial-style mansion on three acres of land that included eight guest bedrooms. The Sidles spent two years and a half years and an ungodly amount of money restoring the manor, inside and out, doing most of the work themselves.

When the work was done and Phil and Eavan were ready to open up to their first slew of guests, Eavan discovered she was pregnant. Seeing it as a good omen, she not only insisted on keeping the original name of the B&B, but also bestowing the same name on their only daughter.

Now, thirty-three years later, the daughter that Phil and Eavan so lovingly referred to as their lucky star was returning home, if only for a week.

Sara Sidle wasn't sure about returning home at first, even if it was for her half-brother's wedding. When she obtained the invitation, she was certain she wasn't going to go. She hadn't attended Wiley's first three weddings, why should this be any different? But as Sara read the invitation and saw that the ceremony and reception was to be held at her parents' B&B, she began to toy with the idea that going home and seeing Mom and Dad might be, well, fun. The component that finally convinced her to go was the phone call she received while at work from Wiley himself,

"It would mean the universe to me if you came this time, Sara," he said, piling on the syrupy charm. "My dazzling bride-to-be is even willing to make my knockout of a baby sister a bridesmaid."

She blushed over the telephone. _Now_ how could she say no? As long as the dresses weren't pink, she accepted. Wiley was the king of ultimate flattery and had always been so damn persuasive. So, Sara took a week out of the seventy personal days she had acquired, packed two suitcases and her laptop and made the six-hour drive in her Denali to Tamales Bay.

She didn't tell Grissom where she was going, just said she was finally taking some time off.

"This is quite sudden. What's the occasion?" Grissom asked.

Sara was cool, "Oh, just some 'me' time, is all. Maybe I'll visit my parents. You were right, Grissom. I need a break."

The look on Grissom's face was somewhat pitiful, like a devoted dog who was watching his owner leave the house for the day, tail tucked between its legs. Sara wiped that image from her mind as she packed her suitcase that night. However, she did see it in her dreams that night, which annoyed her to no end.

More than once, Sara felt like she should turn back and decline Wiley and his fiancée's offer to make her a bridesmaid and retreat to her apartment and flannel pajamas. But something in her heart kept telling her to press on. So she did. She wouldn't let Grissom win, not this time.

To distract herself, she thought about Wiley a lot during her drive. He was ten years older than she, a product of her father Phil's first marriage to a Seattle socialite named Cecilia. They married three months before Wiley was born and divorced five years later. From what Sara had heard, they had had a daughter too, a sickly little girl that had been named Elizabeth. She had died of a heart valve defect at the age of two. Phil had always pinpointed Elizabeth's death as the start of the decline of his marriage to Cecilia.

Sara did not see Cecilia as much as she would see Wiley, who spent every other month in Tamales Bay, a child of joint custody. But once Wiley turned eighteen, he stopped coming on a regular basis and eventually not at all. Too infrequently he would make phone calls to his younger half-sister, but they would never last more than an hour or so.

The last time she'd seen him was at least five years ago at Christmastime. He had grown to look very much like her father—broad shouldered, sandy-haired and a handsomely sculpted face. He was extremely bright but not science-oriented like Sara was. He had what Sara's mother Eavan called a renaissance spirit—full of creativity and resourcefulness. Wiley had chosen to throw his intelligence into majoring in both art history and European literature, and spent a great amount of time traveling, which was how he had met his first three wives.

Wiley was infamous for his many marriages, especially since he favored women much younger than he and developed a taste for blondes. Sara couldn't recall a time when he didn't have a blonde piece of arm candy attached to his sleeve.

He was also the father of four sandy-haired, pink cheeked daughters—one from his first marriage, two from his second and one from his third.

Elizabeth was sixteen, the oldest and prettiest, tall and slender with pouty rosebud lips and eyes the color of the ocean. She shared her aunt Sara's love of science and attended a prestigious private school in Georgia. Sophie was twelve and a musical prodigy. At a special performing arts school, she played piano and violin like a pro and already had a guaranteed scholarship to Julliard. Megan, age ten, was a junior Olympic equestrienne with a vast collection of blue ribbons and trophies. She was known as the clumsy sister, but somehow managed to have complete dexterity and grace while on the back of a horse. Kirya was five and the clear favorite of Wiley's. A Shirley Temple look-alike and the only sister with crystal-clear blue eyes, her mother's hobby was entering Kirya in one child beauty pageant after another. The child had already won forty-six trophies, twenty titles and over a hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.

Thinking about her nieces made Sara a little more anxious to get to Tamales Bay. It was very rare all four girls were together. Elizabeth practically lived at her school in Georgia (Sara swore the girl was developing an accent), only returning for holidays and special occasions. Kirya stayed with her mother on nearly a permanent basis, seeing her father on Saturdays, unless she wasn't in a pageant that weekend. Sophie and Megan were the only girls regularly trafficked between their parents every other month and the ones that Sara saw the most.

Sara turned up the volume of the CD Nick had burned for her, not sure if she liked it or not—Nickelback's _The Long Road_. It was Nick's idea of a joke; he'd also made her a mix CD of traveling songs: "Ramblin' Man", "Ticket To Ride", "Traveling Soldier", "Hitchin' A Ride", "Horse With No Name", "Callin' Baton Rouge", "I Woke Up In A Car" and, as the grand finale, Sheryl Crow's "Leaving Las Vegas" followed by Pink's "Going To California".

"In honor of your first road trip since you started working here," he said, when he presented her with the CD's.

Sara made a face but accepted Nick's gift graciously. She hated to admit he was right. She hadn't had a road trip since she was seventeen—she and her best friend Roxanne had sneaked out and borrowed Roxanne's brother's car to go to the Halloween gay pride parade and a _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ midnight screening in San Francisco. They hadn't returned home until 4 AM.

"I appreciate it, Nick," Sara said, giving her friend a smile. Their brother-sister relationship over the years was a great comfort to her, especially since Wiley didn't stay in touch as much as he should. "Promise me I can call you if it gets to crazy at the Sidle house and you'll be my knight in shining armor." Only Nick knew the real reason she was taking time off.

"Crazy? At the Sidle residence? Is there such thing?" Nick gave a grin.

"Of course there is. I grew up there, didn't I?"

"You're pretty normal."

You have no idea, Sara thought. "You wanna go for a beer later? I'll buy and tell you what's so crazy about the Sidle residence."

"Ooh, blackmail. I like it. Unfortunately, I have a date."

Sara hid her disappointment well. "That's okay. I still have some packing to do." She had been packed for three days. In all honestly, she was itching to cross the state line.

Ever since she announced she was taking time off, Grissom had avoided her like the plague, not speaking to her unless it was to bark an order. Sara didn't care. He'd been dropping hints for weeks that she should take some time off, and when she does, _he_ gets an attitude? Fuck off. Well, she had been giving him the cold shoulder for going on months now, ever since her dinner date was rejected. And just when she was beginning to thaw, he decides to recommend _Nick_ for the promotion? No matter that the position was cut, the fact was that she felt so incredibly snubbed by—

Ooh, that man just made her so angry sometimes, she could hardly finish a train of thought. Sara's eyes began to droop at this point, and glanced at her dashboard clock. Nearly ten PM. Sighing, she pulled into the first hotel she came across—a Holiday Inn, of course.

Don't worry, Sara thought to herself as she crawled into bed half an hour later. _By this time tomorrow, you'll have one week of Grissom-free days head of you._

That night, she never slept better.


	2. Eavan

Before Sara got out of her car, she sat in the front seat and just plain stared at the house looming before her.

Yup, there it was. Sara's Place, her childhood home. The home of her parents' dreams, the home that her mother always hoped would be filled to the brim with children. The home Sara had been named after.

Sara got out of her Denali and went into the back seat to retrieve her laptop and suitcase. She stood quietly, just admiring how fresh the front of the old house looked. The exterior had been repainted—it had been robin's egg blue for years, now it was now pale yellow.

The wooden sign still hung outside the porch with the ridiculous slogan her father, a man with an odd sense of humor, had come up with: Sidle On Down To Sara's Place. It looked restored and sturdier.

She walked up the clean, white brick pathway leading up to the creaky but freshly painted wooden steps and onto the oversized gallery complete with porch swings and rang the bell. Moments later, following a sing-song, "Coming!", Sara's mother opened the door.

The fourth out of twelve children of Irish immigrant parents, Eavan Siobhan Sidle was fifty-eight years old but really didn't look much older than Sara. She had the body and face of one years younger than she. Her hair, the same color as Sara's, reached her rear end and her eyes were such a shimmering gray that Sara's father swore they were really silver. Eavan stood only five feet, three inches and was small-boned. She wore a soft green sundress with a beaded trim, with the hem hitting in the middle of her calves. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw who was standing on her gallery.

"My God! Hell froze over!" she exclaimed happily and held her arms out. "Sunshine!"

"Hi, Mom," Sara grinned and gave her mother a hug. "How are you?"

"Oh, Sara Sunshine, I can't _believe_ you came! This will mean _so_ much to Wiley."

Sara reddened at the sound of her middle name. _Sara Sunshine_. If word at CSI had gotten out that her middle name really was Sunshine, not just a cutesy sobriquet her parents had made up, she'd never hear the end of it. Especially from Greg and Nick. "Is Wiley here?"

"No, not at the moment. Come _in_, come _in_!" Eavan grabbed Sara's suitcase and dragged it into the foyer of the house.

Sara looked around as she slipped her sneakers off. The interior of the old estate hadn't really changed at all. The decor still whispered of the sixties and seventies and gave off a very homey feel. The windows were open and Sara heard the sound of seagulls, even though they were a couple miles from the ocean.

"This is so exciting!" Eavan squealed. "Sunshine, I've even opened up your old room!"

"Really? You didn't convert it into a guest room?" Sara smiled. How weird, she'd be staying in her old bedroom.

"Are you _kidding_? I wouldn't let Daddy touch it!"

"Mom, where's Wiley? I really want to see him."

"He's out on the town with his lovely bride-to-be," Eavan replied as she ducked into the doorway of the kitchen, just to Sara's left. "Come talk, Sunshine. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I didn't know what time you'd be coming in, I'm already starting on dinner. But I've got some Greek pasta salad left over from lunch if you're interested. Or I can make you something else. Mac and cheese? A sandwich? I made soda bread last night—"

"Calm down, Mom," Sara laughed, following her mother into the kitchen. "No, I'm not hungry, but I'll take a glass of water."

"Water. Pshaw, you didn't come all the way from Nevada for _water_. No, I've got some homemade lemonade just waiting in the refrigerator to be passed through your lips," Eavan replied and flitted around the kitchen, getting a tall drinking glass and pouring the yellow liquid into it from a plastic pitcher.

"Where are the girls?" Sara asked, referring to her nieces.

"Elizabeth is at the beach with Cousin Phoebe," Eavan said, handing Sara her lemonade and going to the stove, stirring something in a large pot. "Sophie and Megan arrived this afternoon and are at the hotel with their mother. They'll be coming here tomorrow morning. And Kirya will be arriving late afternoon tomorrow. Veronica put her in another beauty show."

"Ah, I see," Sara nodded. Her ex-sister-in-law Veronica was the pageant nut. "Has Kirya has been on a winning streak?"

"Oh honey, I wouldn't know. Kirya is a gorgeous little girl, of course, but I turn a deaf ear whenever they chitchat about these pageants. It isn't right, I think. Have you seen the headshots they take of this little girl? They pile so much makeup on her, she looks like she's as old as Elizabeth. A little girl of five years old does _not_ need all that to be beautiful. Little girls are always beautiful. I know _you_ sure were."

Sara rolled her eyes and drank her lemonade so no words would escape her mouth. "What are you making?" Sara asked between sips.

"Gazpacho, for dinner tonight. Too darn hot to really cook anything, we're eating outside and Dad's barbequing."

"How many people are staying here? It's so quiet."

"Oh, honey, we're filled up, guests for the wedding. They were booked weeks in advance, so we didn't have to turn anyone away. And you know how I hate to do that."

"And where's Dad?"

"I sent him to do some food shopping . If I'm going to feed all these people for the next five days, I'm going to need a lot more than what I have."

"Are you cooking for the wedding?"

"Oh, heavens no. Cecilia and I hired a caterer."

"Cecilia? Is she staying here?"

"No, she's in a hotel, too," Eavan sighed after a pause. Even though the two women liked each other enough, the situation of both Cecilia and Eavan being under the same roof was a little uncomfortable.

"So, Mom," Sara said after a beat of silence, "you gotta tell me about Wiley's fiancée. I don't know anything about her."

"She's a wonderful girl. She and Wiley met on a trip to Australia. They were in the same tour group. Her name's Polexia Woulfe."

Sara nearly choked on her lemonade. And she thought Sara Sunshine was bad. "Polexia, huh?"

"Polly for short. Oh, but she's an intelligent thing, she is. So quick. You know she majored in philosophy?" Eavan took the pot of tomato soup and put it in the refrigerator to chill.

"Really. Well, there's a high demand of philosophers these days. They're looking for someone to fill Aristotle's position. He left a big gap at the Roman forum—"

"Sunshine, you're a terrible tease," Eavan sighed. "Be nice to Polly when you meet her tomorrow, huh? After all, you _are_ going to be one of her bridesmaids."

"It's true? That wasn't a line Wiley used to get me down here?" Sara winced.

"Of course it's true," Eavan came to sit down at the kitchen table with her daughter. "It was a stroke of luck, really. One of Polly's friends can't make it to the wedding, she has a photo shoot in France this weekend—she's a photographer—and Polly was just so upset. So, Wiley suggested that she put _you_ in the wedding party."

"Great, another ugly dress to add to my collection."

"Oh, Sara. I've seen the dresses. They're not ugly. They're quite tasteful and festive and...and _cheery_..."

"They're pink, aren't they?"

"Yes. But you look great in pink. Really. Brings out your cheeks," Eavan stroked her daughter's face.

Sara groaned.

Eavan looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Oh! Poor thing, you must be exhausted!" she stood up quickly. "Let me take you to your room!"

"Oh...okay then..." Sara scrambled up out of her chair to catch up with her mother.

Eavan took Sara's suitcase from the hallway, lifting it with ease. Sara took her laptop and followed her mother throughout the house, to a separate wing closed off from the living room by a set of double doors, consisting of three bedrooms and a bathroom—the family wing. The Sidles had put this addition onto the house when Sara was four, so the family could have privacy from the guests. The extra bedroom was Wiley's to use when he spent his month in California.

"So you haven't touched it?" Sara asked.

"Well, I've been in there to dust and to air it out when I'm doing my spring cleaning," Eavan said, "but otherwise, no."

With a large smile, Eavan swung open the big white door of Sara's bedroom and the pair stepped in. Sara was awed at how immaculate it looked.

Sara's white wooden daybed was against the western wall and still sported a bright purple duvet and an array of puffy decorative pillows in rose, red, purple, indigo and green. Posters for Blondie, Robert Palmer and Joni Mitchell were still on the walls, above the daybed, as well as a collection of photographs and postcards. The color of the walls had remained a sweet lavender, a color that had been there since the room was built.

Her purple butterfly chair was still wedged beside her bookshelf—stuffed to the rafters with mystery, fantasy and sci-fi novels—at the foot of the bed. At the head was a white wicker night table with a pink butterfly-shaped clock/radio, a red princess phone and a mason jar of silk peonies.

Her desk was on the wall opposite to her bed, and it was one her father had made when she was ten. It consisted of a six-foot-long, two-foot-wide white Formica kitchen counter that stretched almost across the entire side of her room, mounted on top of two white cabinets that contained three drawers each, one at either end. It was so large that it held her television, typewriter, small stereo and an empty aquarium.

"Wow," Sara said. "You weren't kidding."

Eavan was beaming with pride, "I take good care of your room."

"It shows, Mom." Sara dragged her suitcase into the room and

Eavan sighed, "Well, I'll let you unpack, set up for the week. Everyone should be due back for supper at seven o'clock—we're having a backyard barbeque—so if you want to nap you might want to set your alarm."

"I'll do that, Mom, thanks."

Eavan beamed widely and kissed Sara's forehead, "Sara Sunshine Sidle, you are the sunshine of my life," she said before leaving the room.


	3. Phil

Sara did nap, but not for long. She had one of those snoozes that felt like she'd been out for hours but when she awoke, only twenty-five minutes had gone by. It was enough for her. From the backyard, she faintly heard hammering and that only meant one thing: her father was home. She quickly changed her clothes, slipped her feet into her yellow rubber thongs and left her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Phillip "Coyote" Sidle was five years older than his wife and strong as a horse. He was tall, six foot four. Sara got from him her wit and chocolate eyes. He was lean and exercised regularly—both he and his wife were advocates of yoga and tai-chi—and was a professional carpenter. The nickname of "Coyote" was bestowed upon him in high school for his love of the outdoors, especially the nighttime, and shaggy appearance. It was rumored that this old nickname was the reason he had named his son Wiley. Phil always had a beard and long hair that he kept in a ponytail, desperately clinging onto his hippie roots. The beard and ponytail were now gray, but his spirit was not.

Sara went to the backyard and, sure enough, there was her dad, repairing a picnic bench, wearing only a pair of cutoff jeans. He also wore around his neck a silver peace sign that hung on a silver chain. That peace sign had always been an embarrassment for Sara as a young girl but she now realized it was just part of her dad's charm.

Then, Phil caught sight of his girl and dropped his hammer, "Hey!" he called, holding his arms out wide. "How did you sneak past me, you naughty girl?"

Sara ran over to Phil, tripping over her thongs, and collapsed into his arms, "Hi, Dad!"

"It sure feels good to hug you again, Sunshine!" he said, grinning, holding his daughter close.

"Same here, Dad," Sara replied. She inhaled her father's scent: a manly mixture of sawdust, sweat and spice.

The pair pulled apart and Phil resumed his work. "How are you, Sunshine? Or are you just Sara up there in 'the city'? You know, if it wasn't for your mom and this stupid house, Sunshine would be your first name."

"I'm just Sara in Vegas," Sara admitted, "but it feels good to forget who I am for a few days."

Phil laughed, "It's always good to forget who you are. It's what keeps us young."

"I should do it more often, then."

Again, laughter rolled from the pit of Phil's belly and out his mouth, reverberating through Sara, making her feel tingly all over. It had been a long time since she'd heard laughter like that.

"How about this, huh? Fourth marriage for the Wiley Coyote," said Phil. "Man, I thought being married twice was a trip."

"I can't imagine being married once, much less four times," Sara crinkled. "How is she, Dad, the fiancée? Nice?"

"Put it this way," said Phil, "she's absolutely nothing like her predecessors."

"How so?"

"She's intelligent, for one."

"Already a bonus. But Dad, I can't understand _why_ can't Wiley stay with one woman? Is something the matter with him?"

"Even I can't answer that, Sunshine. But hey, whatever makes him happy, right? Besides, I think girl's gonna be the last one."

"Really?"

"Call it a hunch. Aha!" Phil hammered in the last nail and turned the picnic bench right-side-up. "What do you think, Sunshine? Is your old dad a handyman or what?"

"Or what."

"Very funny. Hey, everyone's going to be back soon. Let's you and I go dress to the nines for dinner and pretend we're happy to be here."

"You mean you're not?"

"I'd rather be surfing."

Hand-in-hand, father and daughter tracked back to the house, which was starting to fill up with people.

"Bummer," Phil muttered. "Run!"

Hiding their faces from any potential relatives, Phil and Sara retreated to the family wing, where they shut the door behind them and laughed.

"That was a close one," Sara said.

"It's bad luck to see the family before the wedding," Phil said, whose own wedding to Eavan was on the beach and attended by only a handful of friends. "I don't know about you," Phil wrinkled his nose, "but I stink to high heaven. I'm going to shower and put on shoes, then see you outside."

"You're going to wear shoes?" Sara couldn't believe her ears. If it was one thing her father hated, it was shoes. He couldn't stand having anything on his feet.

"And khakis. I promised your mother I would. She's being vehement about anti-jeans," Phil sighed and smoothed his ponytail. "Guess I'm going to look like the Gap instead of Garcia tonight. Later, Sunshine." He kissed her cheek and headed for the bathroom. Sara made a beeline for her own room and began rummaging through her still-unpacked luggage.

"Something nice…something decent…no jeans," she muttered to herself. She managed to find, tucked away in the corner, one of the two sundresses she had brought with her: light gray with black-and-red trim, a square neckline and thin straps. It hit just above her knees and was lightweight. A pair of black sandals on her feet would do. She took her time in getting dressed. In terms of makeup, she simply applied eyeliner, mascara and dabbed on some clear lip gloss. She couldn't decide what to do with her hair, so she clipped it back with a few bobby pins and left it at that.

She examined herself in the full-length mirror on her door, turning around and around, checking her profile. It had been a long, _long_ time since she'd worn a dress, much less one this revealing. Sara frowned at her reflection and took out the bobby pins that she decided made her look too girlish and settled on simply pulling it back, half-up-half-down. She tried to do a Pollyanna knot to dress it up a little bit, but couldn't remember how. Returning once again to her mirror, Sara was once again disappointed in what she saw. She was too pale, especially in her arms and calves. And her nose and cheeks were too red. Maybe she'd get a chance to do some tanning while she was here.

Looking at her clock, Sara realized she was now more than fashionably late.

* * *

The backyard of Sara's Place was plain. Besides consisting of fresh green grass that Phil mowed himself weekly, there was: an abandoned swing set; some orange, lime and lemon trees; a weeping willow and rows of picnic tables and benches, all enclosed within a white picket fence. The wooden porch was attached to the back of the house and had lawn chairs and Phil Sidle's pride and joy—his barbeque.

By the time Sara arrived, Phil had already taken his position at said barbeque, in his khakis and shoes, happily marinating some chicken thighs and lamb chops, chatting with a man Sara did not recognize. Phil caught her eye and gave a wink before returning to his conversation.

Music from a classic rock station emitted from the stereo system that usually sat underneath the porch awning. A mini-bar was set up, behind which was the first familiar face.

Cecilia Martin, Phil Sidle's first wife, was a blonde, blue-eyed WASP from Seattle with a passion for art and shopping. Sara never quite figured out her relationship to Cecilia, who she liked very much but also resented the fact that there had been another woman before her own mother.

"Hey!" Cecilia waved, an empty bottle of José Cuervo in one hand.

"Hi!" Sara hurried over. Cecilia leaned in and Sara gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"How goes it, Sunny?" asked Cecilia, throwing the empty bottle into a garbage bin. She was the only person who ever called Sara "Sunny". "Can you _believe_ Phil put me behind the bar, at my own son's party! I should be out there schmoozing. Can I interest you in a Long Island iced tea? A Royal Fuck? A Zipperhead?" she ticked off her specialties. "How about a Queen Charlotte?"

"No thanks…well, what about a Jack Rose?"

"I can do that. Jack's my man," Cecilia agreed. She uncorked the bottle of applejack and pulled out a cocktail glass. "So, Sunny, I can't _believe_ you're here!"

"Neither can I," Sara leaned on the bar. "It's been a while."

"Ha! No shit, Sherlock. I haven't seen you forever, you bad girl."

"Sorry, sorry. What can I say, I love my work. I'm married to my job."

"Oh, is that why this is Wiley's _fourth_ wedding and you haven't even had _one_ yet? You have a lot of catching up to do."

"Cee-Cee!" a tall young lady with curly blonde hair sauntered up to the bar. She wore a tasteful rose-colored minidress with matching high-heeled sandals. "Can you make me an Evil Princess?"

"Evil Princess?" Cecilia crinkled a brow. "Sure." She pulled out a mixing stick and tapped the girl on the head. "Poof! You're an evil princess."

"Cee-Cee," she giggled. "You _know_ what I mean."

"Of course I do, Elizabeth. But why don't you say hello to Aunt Sara first?"

"Aunt Sara? Where?" the girl craned her neck and looked around.

Suddenly, Sara's eyes went wide. This young lady was her _niece_ Elizabeth? "I'm right here," Sara said after a moment, giving a little wave.

Elizabeth broke out into a wide grin. "Aunt Sara!" she squealed. "Hi!" She came around and the two embraced.

"I haven't seen you since Christmas ages ago!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"You got so tall!" Sara blurted at the same time.

"She's got her daddy's height," Cecilia replied as she slid Sara her Jack Rose in a cocktail glass. "Already a looker, too."

"Cee-Cee, I am not," Elizabeth blushed to the color of her dress. Cecilia made all her granddaughters call her simply "Cee-Cee" in an age-old resentment for the word "grandma" or "grandmother" or, God forbid, "granny".

"Sure you are. You've got my genes. And Aunt Sara knows all about genes, the scientist," Cecilia winked. Sara watched as she mixed white grape juice and apple juice into a Collins glass, then added grenadine, vanilla syrup and lemon juice. "There you go, Libby. An Evil Princess for the evil princess."

"Thank you, Cee-Cee," Elizabeth kissed her grandmother's cheek. "I'll see you later, Aunt Sara. I'm staying here, you know!" she nodded towards the house.

"I know. We'll have a slumber party, okay?" Sara promised. "With Sophie and Megan, too."

"Sure," Elizabeth replied, and, sipping on her drink, departed.

"Wow," Sara said once Elizabeth was out of earshot. "When did my niece grow boobs?"

"See what happens when you stay away from the family too long, Sunny?" Cecilia laughed. A young man came up and ordered a Fire and Ice, but Cecilia turned them away. "No Rumple Minze."

After the young man pouted and eventually sauntered away, Cecilia turned back to Sara, who was innocently sipping her drink.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you know how many people are dying to see you, including Wiley? Take your Jack Rose and go _schmooze_! Come on, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."


	4. Wiley

Jack Rose in hand, Sara frowned as she scanned the crowd for more recognizable people. Sara then thought she saw Wiley but was mistaken. It looked an awful lot like her brother, but the woman he held the hand of was a redhead, not blonde. So she continued to hunt down her half-brother, descending from the deck but standing apart from the party. Then, she noticed the man with the redhead on his arm was coming toward her.

"There you are!" he said, waving. "Sunshine, I've been looking all over for you!"

"Wiley?" Sara's eyes bugged out of her head. She couldn't believe it.

"Who else?" Wiley smirked. He was wearing a pair of black slacks and a baby blue button-down tee. He hadn't changed a bit. Still blonde and blue-eyed like Cecilia, built very much like Phil. He had gained a little weight but it looked good on him. Smiling, Wiley came close enough to lean over and kiss Sara's cheek. "Ah, Sara Sunshine Sidle, I'd like you to meet my lovely bride-to-be, Polexia Woulfe."

"Hello!" exclaimed the redhead. She wore a tan skirt and a sage green collared shirt. She gave Sara a pleasant smile and held out her hand. Sara took it and Polexia shook it with vigor. "I'm so happy to finally meet you! Wiley's told me so much about you and I feel honored that you're going to be taking part in the wedding party!" She spoke as if she had rehearsed these lines over and over again until she had met Sara face-to-face.

"Thank you," Sara stuttered as her hand was being pumped.

"I was at _such a loss_ when Breeze was unable to attend," Polexia continued, "but then I remembered Wiley had a sister and thought, now that would be _perfect_!"

"Elizabeth's going to be a junior bridesmaid, Sophie and Megan are carrying the train, Kirya's going to be the flower girl," Wiley continued, "and Polly's nephew is the ring bearer and her sister is the maid-of-honor."

"Right, right," Polexia smiled. "We'll need to get you measured right away, but your size isn't much different from Breeze's, so adjustments shouldn't be too difficult. Just take in the bust and let out the hips a bit, but otherwise, you're perfect!"

"Thank you," Sara repeated. _Let out the hips?_

"You know, Wiley's told me all about what you do," Polexia continued, "and I can't wait to hear more."

"Really?" Sara raised her eyebrows, skeptical.

"Oh yeah. I find the whole forensic field mind-blowing."

"Wow. Well, thank you, I guess."

"Well, Polly and I still have some rounds to do," Wiley said. We'll see you later."

Sara was dumbstruck. She watched Wiley and Polexia walk away and Sara had to pinch to make sure she was awake. Her father had been _very_ right. Polexia was absolutely nothing like Wiley's first three wives. It was not only the red hair, it was everything about her. Her name, for one. So far there had been an Amber, Emily and Veronica—now a Polexia? It was also her body: Polexia wasn't fat, but she was definitely voluptuous and full. Her face was round and somewhat heart-shaped. The biggest shocker was her hair. She was a _redhead_! The kind of shiny, dark cranberry red that one would think came from a bottle.

"I like her."

Sara turned around and saw Elizabeth, her Evil Princess gone.

"Yeah, me too. I think," Sara shrugged. "She's different."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth frowned.

Sara hesitated to say anything. "Well…she's a redhead," was the only thing she could think of at short notice.

"Oh…_that_. I don't know. People can change, right? Maybe Dad just got tired of blondes."

"I don't think he's tired of them," Sara put a hand on her niece's shoulder. "If he was, you and your sisters would be out of the job."

Elizabeth smiled. "I'm gonna be a junior bridesmaid."

"I know. I'm a bridesmaid, too."

"You _are_?"

"Why else would I be here?" laughed Sara.

A loud ringing filled the air, like a cowbell. Sara knew that sound as sure as she knew her own heartbeat: the dinner triangle. It had been at Sara's Place years before the Sidles moved in and Eavan loved it. Sara turned and saw her mother ringing it, wearing a tasteful plain white sundress with white flip-flops.

Dinner was set up buffet-style on a long table by the deck. Chicken, lamb, asparagus, fresh green beans, baked potatoes, ziti casserole, Cesar salad and Eavan's gazpacho were lined up in a delicious spread. People grabbed napkins, paper plates and plastic utensils and lined up to gather food. Sara ended up being sandwiched between Phil and Polexia in line.

"What do you think, Sunshine?" Phil asked his daughter, piling ziti onto his plate as if he was hibernating for the winter.

Sara didn't know how to respond: was her father talking about the food or her brother's fiancée?

"Great, Dad," Sara said, taking some green beans and a chicken thigh. She was willing to give up her vegetarianism for the night—the chicken smelled too good. "It's all good."

Sara sat with her parents, Wiley, Polexia, Elizabeth, Cecilia and a few people Sara did not know. Before everyone could eat, the man Sara had seen Phil chatting with earlier and was now sitting at their table, took his glass of wine and stood. He clinked his plastic fork against the glass and the chatter surrounding everyone ceased. The man cleared his voice.

"I'd like to begin by introducing myself. I'm Lemuel Woulfe, father of the bride," he beamed at Polexia and the guests murmured appreciatively. "My lovely wife Georgia and I would like to thank Phil and Eavan Sidle for their graciousness in letting us use Sara's Place for our daughter's wedding."

There was a small round of applause and Eavan blushed slightly.

"Just remember that when you see the bill!" Phil called out, earning a wave of laughter and a slap on the knee from his wife.

"And," Lemuel Woulfe continued, chuckling, "I'd like to propose a toast." Everyone raised their glasses as Lemuel spoke, "A toast to my youngest daughter Polly and her future with Wiley Sidle. May their marriage be as happy and loving as mine and Georgia's. To Polexia and Wiley!"

"To Polexia and Wiley," repeated the crowd before drinking.

Dinner conversation resumed and Polexia was eager to hear more from Sara about being a CSI.

"I hope you don't think I'm trying to suck up or anything," she said, "but I'm thrilled to actually know someone in that line of work."

"In all honesty, it wasn't even something I aspired to," Sara said, poking at her green beans. "I wanted to go into rocket science. I was a physics major. But then I got suckered into forensics by my current supervisor Gil Grissom."

"Wiley told me you used to work in a coroner's office?"

"Polly, is this _proper_ dinner conversation?" eavesdropping Georgia Woulfe interjected, toying with the onyx pendant around her neck. Sara immediately didn't like Polexia's mother. She was a weasel of a woman with hair that was dark copper streaked with unsightly gray, making her look a bit like Cruella Deville. She had a way of looking at a person that reeked with criticism before she even opened her mouth.

"We'll keep it clean, Mother," Polexia rolled her eyes.

Sara answered Polexia's question quickly, "Yes, I started out at a coroner's office in San Francisco. That's how I met Grissom in the first place. I went to Vegas because he found himself short of staff during a case and I guess I never bothered to leave."

"You know, at one point, I considered being a CSI myself?" Polexia speared a tomato with her fork. "I devoted my entire freshman year in college to being a forensics major with a minor in criminology."

"What happened?"

Polexia sighed mournfully. "Turns out I didn't have the stomach."

Wisely, Sara nodded. "That's usually the demise to many a CSI wannabe."

"It wasn't the blood, you see. Blood I can handle." Polexia leaned in and lowered her voice so Georgia's selective hearing wouldn't kick in. "It was the decomp that did me in. They took us to a body farm and well, that was the end of me. I dropped every course the next week."

"I never got a chance to ask you," Sara separated her chicken meat from its bone, "What do you do now?"

"I'm a nurse," Polexia smiled, "in neo-natal care."

"That's a complete one-eighty from a CSI."

"I know," she replied dreamily. "But I just love working with the babies."

"Don't get any ideas, Polly," Wiley joked. "Not for another few years at least."

"Well, how long do you want me to wait, Wiley?" Polexia frowned. "I'm thirty-five. I don't want to wait much longer to have a baby."

"Polly, take it from me. Yes, you do."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"Lover's quibble," Phil whispered into Sara's ear as Wiley and his betrothed squared off.

"I've got ten on the redhead," Sara whispered back.

"Don't even think _I'm_ going to stay home with a child, Polly," Wiley said tiredly.

"Oh, so I have to leave _my_ job that I _love_ because I'm the _woman_?!"

"Double or nothing?" Phil jabbed Sara in the ribs.

Eavan overheard and slapped her husband and her daughter each on the arms. "Don't encourage her, Phillip."

"Love-Light, I didn't say a _thing_," Phil smiled, calling his wife by her pet name as Sara giggled.

"And _you_, Sunshine, don't encourage _him_."

Polexia and Wiley continued to bicker for another ten minutes before dropping the subject completely. For a few fleeting moments, Sara almost hoped that they would call the wedding off and avoid being swathed in pink.

After the guests not staying at Sara's Place had departed for the night, Sara couldn't wait to undress and curl up in bed. But she couldn't, for some reason. She guessed it was excitement. It was her fist night back at home. She hadn't slept in this bed in five years. It was strange to be in a daybed. Back at her apartment in Las Vegas, she had a queen-sized bed that if you rolled off to either side, you hit the floor—_hard_, might she add—and there was no way out of it.

About fifteen minutes later, Sara decided her short nap in the afternoon had ruined sleep for the night. In her t-shirt and boxer shorts, Sara slid out of bed, grabbed a book and decided to read on the porch until she grew sleepy. When she did get to the porch, she found she would not be alone: her father was out there, sitting on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette. He turned when he heard Sara open the porch door.

"Busted," Phil coughed. "Don't tell your mom."

"Uh-huh," Sara smirked. "You told her you quit twelve years ago."

"What she doesn't know won't kill her. I promise. Come sit with me, Sunshine. The tobacco keeps the bugs away."

Sara took a seat beside Phil, putting her book aside. She didn't like it when her dad smoked but she was grateful for the company and she was sure Phil was too.

"We miss you, Sunshine," Phil said after a moment. "It's too quiet without you around."

"I'm sorry." Sara wasn't sure why she was apologizing but said it anyway.

"Nah. You bring the sun, you know that? That's where you get your name, Sunshine. You bring the sun, especially for your mom. She told me when we got married that wanted a lot of kids. 'At least four,' she said. But you're all we got."

Sara nodded, knowing what Phil was talking about. Eavan had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer about a year after Sara had been born and two years after that, the doctors had no choice but to remove all of her "feminine equipment", as she usually put it, to prevent the cancer that had been rapidly spreading. She would, from then on, be unable to produce any more children.

"Please tell me this visit is the start of many more in the future," Phil begged between drags of his cigarette.

Sara took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Insects buzzed from the lawn and a slight wind rustled the leaves on the trees. From faraway, she swore she could smell the ocean. "Sure, Dad," Sara smiled. "I'll try to get away more often."


	5. Maaike

Sara woke up late. She knew it was late because by the time she emerged from the family wing, no one was to be seen. She found Eavan in the kitchen, doing the breakfast dishes and singing to the radio.

"A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side, a little bit of Rita is all I need, a little bit of Tina is what I see, a little bit of Sandra in the sun…"

"Don't tell me you didn't get your dishwasher fixed yet!" Sara shouted over the music.

Eavan jumped and turned around to lower the radio. "Sunshine, you scared me half to death!"

"Sorry. Good morning, Mom," Sara kissed her mother's cheek.

"Good afternoon is more like it!" laughed Eavan, patting Sara's hair. "When was the last time you trimmed your hair? Your ends are dry."

"You need help with these?" Sara avoided the subject and jumped right in to help Eavan wash the dishes in her pajamas.

"Sure, why not," Eavan smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Gosh, Sunshine, it's so nice to have you staying here. We miss you so much."

"It's work," Sara said, scrubbing away.

"I'm sure you get sick days. Right? I mean, how else would you get down here."

Sara didn't want to tell her mother that she hated to leave work. She actually didn't even want to think about work. She had even left her cellphone and pager back in Las Vegas and given Catherine and Grissom only the number of Sara's Place in case of a dire emergency. So, Sara changed the topic. "What's on the agenda today?"

"Well, there's a formal cocktail party tonight," Eavan said slowly, scrubbing a frying pan, "then the rehearsal dinner on Friday and the wedding on Saturday."

"Cocktail party?" Sara exclaimed, letting a dish slip from her hand. It clattered in the sink. "Wiley never told me there was a cocktail party!"

"Oh, dear. That boy..." Eavan sighed. "I bet if he'd told you, you wouldn't be standing here before me right now. He sure does know how to charm you."

"Yeah, he's a real lady-killer."

"Let me guess—you have nothing to wear to the aforementioned cocktail party."

"Absolutely not."

Eavan looked her daughter up and down—God, what a body at thirty-three! When Eavan herself was this age, she was seventeen pounds underweight and bald from chemotherapy. "I'll give Cecilia a call. She'll know exactly what you'll need. What size are you, four?"

"Eight. But thanks." _Damn breakfast burritos._

"Cecilia has that magic touch. She'll find something."

"What about you?"

"Oh, honey, you know me. I've got the same little black dress I've been wearing since 1972. A classic never dies, you know."

Sara knew. Eavan had worn the same strappy black dress for nearly every formal event Sara remembered she had attended. She wore the same shoes, the same jewelry and, if the weather was cool, the same silvery shawl, every time.

"I'd say blue is her best color," Eavan was saying, on the phone now with Cecilia. "Blue or red, or maybe a soft green? Is red too flashy? Yes, I thought so, too," Eavan paused and eyeballed Sara. "You know what? Stick with blue. Something that shows off her shoulders or at least her arms. Yes. Yes. Thank you. I'll see you later. Bye-bye." Eavan hung up the phone. "Cecilia will be over in a few hours with a dress for you."

"Great," Sara said grimly.

"Try not to suck all the happiness out of the room, or there'll be none left for me," Eavan smiled.

"Eavan? Can I steal Sara away?" came a new voice from the kitchen doorway.

"Go ahead, Polly," Eavan turned and smiled. "I need to shower and change anyway."

Eavan stepped out of the room, leaving Polexia and Sara alone. Sara was still in her boxer shorts and t-shirt, while Polexia was dressed in a pair of chocolate brown slacks with a pink pinstripe and a matching pink shirt.

"Wiley and I took my parents to brunch and we're just getting back," Polexia said, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. "I'm on my way to the bridal shop and I need you to come with me so Maia can make the proper modifications to Breeze's gown for you in time for the wedding on Saturday."

"Oh…should I wear anything, you know, special?" Sara looked down at her own clothes and then at Polexia's outfit.

Polexia laughed. "No, don't worry about it. I'm actually on my way to my room to put on a pair of jeans. You might as well do the same."

Sara took that advice and went to her room to don her favorite pair of Levis and a joke t-shirt that read _Jenius_ and met Polexia in the foyer of Sara's Place beside the reception desk—abandoned for the week.

"Ready?" Polexia brandished a set of car keys. "Wiley gave me his Ford while he and his boys are out doing some last minute shopping."

"Sounds good," Sara said.

"I hope you like the dresses," Polexia said as the pair left the house. "Everyone tells me they're very tasteful."

"I'm sure they are."

They got in the car, with Polexia behind the wheel. She popped in her favorite CD and they were off.

"I love U2," Polexia sighed as "Pride In The Name of Love" filled the car. "I go to their concerts every time they're in town. Bono is so gorgeous up close."

Sara didn't do much talking, but they weren't silent. Polexia talked nearly the entire ride there. She mostly talked about herself, probably for Sara's benefit, seeing that they had only met last night and didn't know much about each other.

By the time Sara and Polexia arrived at Apollo and Dionysus Bridal, Sara knew that Polexia's favorite food was Italian hoagies, her favorite ice cream was chocolate-chip cookie dough and her favorite color was, of course, pink. Her favorite movie was Peter Jackson's _Heavenly Creatures_, her favorite book was_ Flowers in the Attic _and her favorite actors were Jude Law and Charlize Theron.

"Oh, and did I mention? You'll get to meet your fellow bridesmaids today, too. All five of them," Polexia added as she and Sara stepped from the car. Polexia surveyed the parking lot. "Looks like we're the last to arrive…no, wait, here comes Maaike."

A sleek and shiny silver Beamer convertible pulled up to the shop with an attractive dark-haired, olive-skinned woman behind the wheel. She wore round sunglasses with dark purple lenses and had a white scarf tied about her head, Grace Kelly style. Between two of her fingers was a cigarette. The music on the sound system was Elton John. When she stepped out of the car, Sara saw this woman was nearly six feet tall. She wore a beige skirt with a blazer and high heels. She untied the scarf and stomped out her cigarette.

"Hello, Maaike!" Polexia greeted the woman, who had to bend to air-kiss Polexia's cheeks.

"Good afternoon, Bride-To-Be!" the woman replied, whose name Polexia had pronounced "Mai-ka".

"Why are you so dressed?"

"I was coming from a business meeting," Maaike said curtly. She had an accent that Sara could not place.

"Sara, this is Maaike Douglas. She owns her own chain of beauty salons," Polexia said proudly to Sara. "They're abundant across Europe and one just opened in Beverly Hills and another's in the works in New York."

"If contractors get off lazy ass. Who is this?" Maaike Douglas nodded towards Sara.

"I'm Sara…Wiley's sister. Wiley, the groom," Sara said. She held out her hand for Maaike to shake, which she did, surprisingly gently for such a large, authoritative woman.

"Nice to be meeting you."

"Well, I'm sure the girls are waiting for us," Polexia said, opening the door.

"Whoopee-do," muttered Maaike. Polexia didn't hear but Sara did. "Can hardly wait."

* * *

As much as Sara was beginning to like Polexia, she was unsure about the company she kept. In other words, the other bridesmaids. Daphne Allen, Elsa Kressly, Honore Felicia and Lilith Rodriguez were all sensual, beautiful women with ridiculous standards. Some were on their second or third marriages; Elsa was on her fifth. 

Sara didn't say anything to Polexia, but she found the other bridesmaids to be transparent and conceited. During the dress fitting, they chattered so incessantly that Sara wanted to stick pencils in her ears to distract herself from the pain.

The only one of the group that Sara could stand was Maaike. Maaike was one tough cookie, by Sara's standards. She found out later that Maaike was raised in Holland by a Yugoslavian mother and a German father, still single and a successful and powerful entrepreneur. She and Polexia knew each other from their college days when they both made a living selling Mary Kay. There was something dark about Maaike that Sara was drawn to. She was sarcastic but funny and always had a response to any insult the other girls threw at her.

"It's silly to have children in your first marriage," Honore was saying, who had dark, curly hair and dark eyes to match. "Your first marriage is just getting your feet wet, for gods sake, a _trial_ marriage; don't ruin it with children."

"I don't see anything wrong with it," frowned Daphne, a slender young woman with blue-black hair, bright blue eyes and a peaches-and-cream complexion. She herself had two children, a boy and a girl, from her first and only husband.

"Neither do I," Lilith agreed. "As long as you don't jump right into it. I told Galán no children until we've been married at least seven years." Lilith was a model married to an Argentinean soap opera star.

"Children only fuck up relationship," Maaike murmured in her muddled accent. "I don't know why women even bother." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a silk-lined cigarette holder. She opened it, withdrew one and lit it. She stood near an open window as she smoked.

"_You_ bothered, didn't you, Maaike?" Elsa said sickeningly sweetly, pronouncing Maaike's name "Mikey".

"The fuck are you talking about? It's _Mai-ka_, you witch," Maaike mumbled the last part under her breath.

"What do you mean? I'm talking about Lorelei, of course!"

"Oh, yes," Honore cooed. "Lorelei. How old is she now, fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Eighteen," Maaike said.

"Is she still living in Prague?" asked Lilith

"Did she have the baby?" asked Daphne.

"You have a daughter?" asked Sara.

"In answer to all your questions: yes," Maaike replied. And then she got up and left the room.

Elsa gave a shrill little laugh. "I honestly don't know why Polly keeps her around!" she said in a low voice to the other girls.

"Maaike has a daughter?" Sara asked no one in particular.

"Yes," Polexia said, emerging from the dressing room, aglow in white satin. Her dress was positively stunning. It had short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, embroidered lace appliqués and a cathedral train. The layers of crinoline beneath the skirt made it puff out, making Polexia's round face and broad shoulders look smaller. "From a college boyfriend. I never met him, but I remember when she told me she was pregnant. We were both eighteen. She had Lorelei, of course, even though her parents were furious. Maaike raised her daughter wonderfully, but then Lorelei got pregnant a few years ago. Maaike sent her to a special school in Prague, where Lorelei had her baby. Supposedly she's still living there. Lilith, could you zip me up?"

"She sent away her daughter because she was pregnant?" Sara frowned.

"Naturally," Lilith said, zipping Polexia's dress. "Lorelei was only sixteen. Maaike was ashamed that her daughter had made the same mistake she did."

"Do you have any children, Sara?" Daphne asked gently. Sara could tell Daphne was trying to be nice. Polexia told her later that Daphne was definitely the kindest one. She had been raised in India with her parents: a British Navy admiral and a nurse.

"No," Sara answered simply.

"Are you even married?" Honore asked.

"Uh-uh."

"Boyfriend?" asked Elsa, frowning.

"No."

"My God, what do you _do_ with your life?"

"I chase rabbits."

Elsa blinked a few times. It was obvious that she didn't have a response to Sara. Thankfully, Maia the dressmaker entered the private dressing room, dragging a rack of pink bridesmaids' dresses.

"Okay ladies," Maia said. "Today's the last day so don't go gaining any weight."

Polexia introduced Sara to Maia, who then instructed Sara to strip to the skivvies and stand on a low stool for her dress adjustments.

"Strip here?" Sara looked around her. Polexia and her friends, _sans_ Maaike, were all staring at her.

"We've all got the same goodies, Sara," Elsa said, tossing her bleached blonde hair back. "What are you so afraid of?"

Sara decided she liked Elsa the least. "Nothing," Sara replied defensively through gritted teeth. And to prove she wasn't afraid, right away she unzipped her jeans, letting them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them while simultaneously pulling her tee over her head. Then, she stepped onto the stool that Maia had designated and awaited the dress.

Sara wanted to cry when she first saw the dress on her body. She knew it wasn't suppost to fit right—it was, after all, originally cut for another person. But the overall feel of it was terrible. First off, it wasn't a "tasteful" pink as Polexia and Eavan had insisted. It was more like…Pepto-Bismol. It was satin, which always made Sara sweat. It had short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that was suppost to match Polexia's dress and did nothing for Sara's small chest and it was _way_ too tight at the hips, giving her a pear shape.

"The adjustments should be easy," Maia said, getting a box of pins. "You and Breeze weren't that dissimilar in body type. The bust needs to be taken in more than the hips need to be taken out. But not by much."

"It looks wonderful, Sara," gushed Elsa. Sara had to fight the urge to tackle her and scratch her face off.

"Okay, ladies," Maia turned to the other maids. "Why don't you take your dresses and put them on while I work on Sara."

"Where'd Maaike go?" Polexia's brow furrowed. She had missed the incident when the other girls had verbally attacked Maaike.

"Who knows," Honore rolled her eyes as she unzipped her skirt.

"I'm going to go find her," Polexia made for the door but Maia body blocked her.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not setting one foot outside of this shop in that dress."

"She doesn't have to," Maaike said, coming back into the room. From across the room, Sara could smell the stench of tobacco and, perhaps, bourbon.

"Good," Maia sighed. "Let's get going."

For nearly an hour, Sara stood as Maia made adjustments to the dress, including picking up the hem an inch. At first, Sara felt humiliated, but that feeling quickly went away when Elsa discovered she had gained five pounds. The fabric of the dress was taut around her entire torso and especially her breasts. The zipper also refused to go up. Sara would have laughed if the situation wasn't so dire.

"I'm _not_ making any alterations to this one," Maia insisted.

"But _why not_?" moaned the blonde. "The wedding's in _three days_!"

"Then I recommend you stop eating."

Sara liked Maia too.

Maaike looked just as miserable as Sara in that bright pink dress. "This stupid," Sara heard Maaike mutter.

"Why'd you do it?" blurted Sara. She was referring to the situation of Lorelei, of course, but Maaike misinterpreted.

"Because I love Polly. I do anything for her. Even wear pink."

Sara sighed and looked at her reflection. Pale skin and mousy brown hair swathed in a Pepto-Bismol nightmare. But Maaike was right, she decided. If she loved Wiley enough, she would do anything for him—even wear pink for his fourth and hopefully final wedding.


	6. Grissom

Polexia dropped off Sara back at Sara's Place around three PM. She still had some last-minute things to do before the cocktail party and was taking her older sister Crisli with her.

"I'll see you tonight!" Polexia said, waving as she drove off.

As Sara approached the house and noticed a new car in the driveway. She recognized it as Cecilia's Lincoln. Of course, the vanity plate reading _CEECEE_ was a dead givaway.

"We're in the living room, Sunshine!" Eavan's voice called as soon as Sara closed the front door. _We, huh?_

Sure enough, seated on the sofa with half a dozen dress boxes between them, was Cecilia and Eavan. Each had a mug of coffee and were watching, ironically, _Father of the Bride_ on cable.

"We've been waiting for you," Cecilia smiled. She stood and took the first box off the pile. She was wearing jeans and a tight black camisole with black sandals on her feet. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail. Sara had never seen her look so casual. "I've spent the entire morning on Rodeo Drive looking for the perfect dress."

"You didn't have to—"

"Of course I did," Cecilia rolled her eyes. "Wiley never lets me buy anything for him and my former daughters-in-law don't like my taste."

"There are six for you to try on," Eavan said as Sara took the box. "The five that don't work can be returned."

"Now," Cecilia settled back on the couch, "put on a fashion show for us."

Sara sighed. She'd just spent half her day at a bridal shop playing dress-up. She wasn't expecting to come home and do it again for her mother and her father's first wife. "Fine. But I'm not promising anything."

The first dress was sequined baby blue. It came with a matching shawl. As soon as Sara had it on, Eavan and Cecilia frowned.

"Too bright," Eavan said.

"I don't like the shape," Cecilia replied. "Next."

Dress Two was a very simple, very elegant floor-length evening gown in a sort of cerulean.

"Better," said Eavan, "but let's see what else you got."

It turned out all six dresses were blue in some way, shape or form. Cecilia had taken Eavan's advice to heart. After Sara had tried on each one, it was Eavan who decided on the sixth and final dress. A dark sapphire number with short sleeves and a plunging neckline that ended directly between her breasts with a gold-and-emerald brooch. It was floor length and made of a shiny material Sara didn't recognize.

"How slimming!" Sara's mother exclaimed. "Sunshine, it's gorgeous!"

"I love that neckline on her," Cecilia said. "How do you feel, Sunny?"

Sara stared at her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. The neckline was too deep for her, but it didn't show off too much. She would just have to be careful not to bend over.

"It's nice," Sara decided. "If you think this is it…"

"Yes," Eavan and Cecilia said at the same time.

"Then this is it."

"Perfect!" Cecilia exclaimed, gathering the five rejected gowns. "Now, that didn't take too long, did it? I gotta run back to my hotel room but I'll be here early to help you out, Eavan."

"Sounds good. Let me walk you out."

Eavan and Cecilia left the room. Sara was still enthralled with her reflection, turning her body this way and that. Who was that lady in the mirror, in that stunning designer dress the color of midnight? Was that CSI-3 Sara Sidle from Las Vegas, the woman who never goes out, who hasn't had a boyfriend since high school? Sara Sidle the genius who never gets away from work? Nah, couldn't be.

But it was. It really, really was.

* * *

The guests who arrived for the cocktail party were smaller in number than they were last night at the barbeque. Plus Eavan had hired a string quartet for the evening and three professional bartenders.

"I'm not doing _anything _for the next three days," Eavan sighed as she helped Sara put on makeup. "The caterers and the kitchen helpers are coming tomorrow and tonight all I had to do was make hors devours. Everything else's been taken care of. My _God_, Sunshine, where did you get these cheeks! These are my mother's Irish cheeks, I know this for sure!"

Sara blushed so deeply her mother wouldn't have needed rouge. Ever since she had come back to Sara's Place, compliment after compliment had been rained down upon her, whether it was her mother, father, brother, _anyone_. Eavan was already dressed in her black ensemble with the silver jewelry she always wore with it. Her hair was in a French twist and she was helping Sara pin hers up into a chignon.

"It's just those in the wedding party tonight, and their spouses, so they can socialize and get to know each other. Of course, the children are not invited."

Two of Sara's nieces, ten-year-old Megan and twelve-year-old Sophie, had arrived shortly after Sara received the dress from Cecilia. They were thrilled to see their aunt and vice-versa. The three of them had spent the remainder of the afternoon on the swing set in the backyard, catching up. Kirya was scheduled to arrive the next morning, just in time for the rehearsal.

"Just look at you," Eavan shook her head as she showed Sara her reflection in the handheld mirror. "You are stunning. Cecilia has a wonderful eye for fashion."

Sara stared at herself. "I don't look like me anymore."

"You're still you, don't worry."

But Eavan didn't understand. Sara didn't feel like Sara Sidle anymore. Sara Sidle didn't go to cocktail parties and wear gowns with necklines that showed her tits. This was not Sara Sidle staring back at her. This was Sunshine, the bridesmaid.

Phil came into the room and made a queer face. "Excuse me, you two gorgeous, stunning ladies," he said to Sara and Eavan, "but I'm looking for my wife and my daughter. Have you seen them? We have a very important date tonight."

"Coyote," sighed Eavan. "You dumb old hippie."

"I love you too," Phil smirked. He struck a pose. "Well, Love-Light, do I look like a dumb old hippie tonight?"

"Yes," Eavan looked her husband up and down in his best suit. "You're not wearing shoes."

* * *

The party went off without a hitch. Sara couldn't believe the backyard of her childhood home had been transformed into an elegant party spot. Tube lighting had been strung about the porch, giving it an angelic yellow-white glow. Chinese lanterns were hanging overhead, lighting the lawn. The string quartet was set up off to the side of the porch, opposite the bar. Waiters and waitresses in black and white uniforms flitted here and there serving Eavan's homemade hors devours. Sara immediately went to the bar got herself a Jack Rose, which was better than Cecilia's, and went to go mingle.

The first person she bumped into was Daphne Allen, who was wearing a stunning gold lamé evening gown.

"Hello, Sara," Daphne smiled weakly. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," Sara felt herself blush again. "I'm not used to wearing stuff like this. You know, dresses and stuff. I'm not allowed to at work. Mostly jeans."

"Yeah, I used to dress like that before I met my husband. Then after we got married, there were so many social events to go to and meetings to attend that I just gave up on jeans altogether."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Cecilia making her way over, wearing a gown the color of red wine. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and her jewelry was gold.

"So, this is where you grew up?"

"Yeah, me and Wiley. Well, he was only here every other month."

"Oh, Sara!" Cecilia said in a sing-song voice, tapping Sara on her shoulder and rubbing her back a little. "You _must_ come with me!"

Sara looked over her shoulder at Cecilia, who was speaking in a slightly slurred way and clutching a champagne glass as if someone might snatch it away at any second. "Excuse me," she said to Daphne, and went with Cecilia, who grabbed her by the hand and dragged her all the way across the lawn, this way and that, zig-zagging between people. Cecilia was taking her in circles, Sara was sure.

"Um, Cecilia?" Sara asked, out of breath and amazed at Cecilia's stamina in her obviously inebriated state. "What are we doing?"

"I'm looking-ooking-ooking for someone," she replied, sounding like the stuttering goose in _Charlotte's Web_. "He was just here..."

"'He?' Cecilia, I'm not interested in a—" Sara protested but Cecilia cut her off.

"Don't you dare complain! This man is too perfect for you it's frightening!" Cecilia gushed, holding Sara's hands in hers. "I know him. He's a wonderfully cultured and articulate man and _darling_, his eyes could make you weak in the knees!"

"Where do you know him from?"

"I was a fan of his mother's artwork and I met him at one of her gallery openings. At _all_ of her openings. Oh, there he is-is-is!" Cecilia squealed and blew out Sara's eardrum. "See him? By the willow tree?"

Sara squinted into the dusk that was settling on the property. "Nope."

"Oh...then let me bring you over."

Sara sighed and let Cecilia drag her a few more feet to where this mystery man was standing. His back to them.

"There you are, dear!" Cecilia said to him. She released Sara and linked her arms through his. "I have someone I'd like you to meet!"

The man turned around and Sara found out Cecilia was right—his eyes _did_ make her weak in the knees.

They were Gil Grissom's eyes.

"_Sara_?!"

"_Grissom_?!"

"You know each other?" Cecilia looked confused.

"Sara's one of my subordinates at the crime lab, Cecilia," Grissom said.

Sara was still too stunned to speak. What the hell was _he _doing here?

"Why does no one tell me these things?" Cecilia whined. "Here I thought I was doing a wonderful matchmaking job and you already know each other. Damn!"

"Oh, Cecilia, I assure you this won't be your last attempt at a Dolly Levi maneuver. You have four granddaughters who are lacking in spousal attachment."

Cecilia gave a weak smile and turned to Sara, who was too petrified to speak. "Sara, darling, if you don't close your mouth a bird will surely nest within."

"What are you doing here?" Sara asked Grissom in a nastier tone of voice than she intended. She was furious—was it really necessary he barge in on her vacation?

"I was invited," Grissom gave Sara a sympathetic look, "by Cecilia. I had no idea that her son was your brother, Sara."

"_Half_-brother," she corrected sharply.

There was an awkward silence. Cecilia then suddenly cleared her throat and said, "Well, I need another drink. Can I bring you anything, Gilbert?"

"No thank you, Cecilia, I'm fine," he held up his glass full of scotch. "Anything for you, Sara?"

"No," Sara replied through clenched teeth. She crossed her arms over her bosom, trying to conceal the plunging neckline that she now felt was too outrageous. How did she let her mother talk her into wearing something like _this_?

Cecilia sauntered away and Sara had an uncontrollable urge to deliver a swift kick to Grissom's stomach.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sara asked again, trying to make her voice as un-menacing as she could.

"I told you, I was invited," Grissom shrugged. "Look, I had no idea your _half_-brother Wiley was Cecilia's Wiley, okay? If I had, I would have declined."

"No, no no no no!" Sara grumbled. "One of the reasons I agreed to make the six hour drive _away from Las Vegas_ and become Puff the Magic Bridesmaid to Polexia—"

"The bride's name is Polexia?"

"Yeah."

"I thought it was Paula."

"Anyway, _one_ of the reasons I came here was to get far away from you for the first time in six years! Every time I change directions there you are, fucking it up for me!"

"Sara," Grissom said, his voice soft as ever and slightly teasing. He put a hand on her shoulder and Sara calmed a bit. "Whether you like it or not, I'll be staying here. For the next three days, we're lodge mates. I suggest you warm up to the idea of me seeing you in ducky pajamas."

Sara paused. "Who told you about my ducky pajamas?"

Grissom gave a sideways smile and made a subtle gesture towards Cecilia, who was chatting up a young waiter.

"I should have known." Sara rolled her eyes.

Cecilia returned moments later, a twinkle in her eye. She had forgoed her champagne in favor of a martini, holding one in each hand. "I stand by what I said earlier, Gilbert. You two would make a _heavenly_ couple." She thrust one of the martinis into Sara's hand.

_Been there, done that_, thought Sara, who didn't care for martinis and instead nibbled on the olives. "How did you say you knew _Gilbert_, Cecilia?"

"Why, I've known him for years. Well, I've known his mother for years. You don't forget a remarkable woman like Eugenia Grissom."

"Cecilia and my mother are old friends," Grissom interjected, for Sara's benefit.

"Be careful how much emphasis you put on _old_, sir," Cecilia gave Grissom a playful nudge and stirred her martini. "How is Genie nowadays? Still painting?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. She actually is putting together another unveiling in a month or so. Should I let her know you're interested in attending?"

"Oh, now that would be wonderful," Cecilia smiled. She patted Grissom's shoulder. "You save me dance for later, Gilbert."

Cecilia left again, back to the waiter she had been flirting with. Grissom sipped his own drink, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He noticed Sara staring at him.

"_What_?" he said. "You heard the story. My mother and Cecilia are friends. I really had no idea that you and Wiley were siblings."

"And the fact that Wiley's last name was Sidle never gave anything away?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I never knew Wiley's last name was Sidle until very recently. I've always known Cecilia by the last name of Martin, which I now know is her maiden name. I always assumed Wiley was Martin as well."

Sara groaned to herself. Great. Now she was stuck with him for the weekend.

"You never told me that your extended family was "

"Have you met my parents?"

"No."

"Then you ain't seen nothing yet."


	7. Nick

"So, do you need to be rescued yet?"

It was after the cocktail party; Sara was in her room on the red princess phone in her bedroom, chatting with Nick. She laughed at his last comment and said, "Maybe."

"Hm. I can't tell if that was a good or a bad maybe."

"Well," Sara flopped onto her daybed and stared at the ceiling. She was still in the dress that Cecilia had picked out for her. "You will never in a million years guess who my father's first wife wants to set me up with."

"I don't know. A million years is a long time. I just might guess right."

"Give you three guesses."

"Okay. Um, Grissom."

Sara paused. "Cheater."

"_Grissom_? How the hell does your father's first wife know Grissom? And how did he get down to California? He told Catherine he was going to a seminar."

"Well, it turns out that Cecilia and Grissom's mother are _old_ friends from the art business and Grissom wound up with an invitation to Wiley's wedding. Oh, and here's the kicker: he's staying at Sara's Place!" Panic rose in Sara's voice.

"Whoa, calm down," Nick said gently.

"He already knows about my ducky pajamas! He knows my middle name is—" Sara caught herself short but Nick didn't hear that bit. "Oh God, Nicky, my whole week is officially ruined! By _him_!"

"Hey, drama queen," Nick's voice was dreamily soft. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure nothing's ruined. Just suck it up. Smiling offsets the gagging reflex, right?"

Sara had to laugh. "Yeah, I guess you're right. There's plenty of people here. I can easily avoid him, even in my own house."

"So," said Nick after a pause. "What are you wearing right now?"

"A G-string, cowboy boots and a feather boa, what else?"

"I likies. Wish I could see that. By the way…you _do_ know I'll have to see pictures of you in that bridesmaid dress, right?"

"Uh, no."

"Uh, yes. I know people, Miss Sidle, people with _cameras_. I'll have my hands on photos of you walking down the aisle looking like a strawberry creampuff before you know it."

"You are so lucky we're nor even in the same state right now, Stokes. Good night."

"Aw, baby, don't got to bed angry."

"I said, good night, Nicholas," Sara smiled to herself. Now why couldn't she have a brother like Nick?

Nick bid good-bye with laughter in his voice and the two hung up.

Sara undressed and hung the dress on a hanger in her empty closet and made a mental note to have Cecilia return it—there was no way in hell she'd ever wear _that_ again. She slipped into her customary boxer shorts and t-shirt and under the covers of her bed, trying desperately to grab sleep.

Sleep did not come easy. Sara kept thinking about Grissom, who was one floor above her, doing whatever. Sleeping, reading. It made her heart pound nervously and so loudly she feared Grissom could hear it. Sleep just did not come.

She decided to revert back to an old childhood remedy—not warm milk, but movies. She went to her collection on her bookshelf, pulled at least six of her favorite videos and went to the kitchen to make herself some popcorn and tea. She then went to the living room, settled on the couch and wrapped a chenille throw blanket around her knees.

* * *

"Fuck you, Mom!"

"What? Get out of my house!"

"You want me to leave? Fine! I'm leavin'!"

"Hey."

Sara jumped a mile at the sound of Grissom's voice, spilling tea down the front of her t-shirt. It burned, but she just gritted her teeth and paused the movie. "Grissom! Holy Christ, you scared the crap out of me!"

Grissom shrugged. "It's two in the morning. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Isn't it way past yours? It's _my_ house, you know, and as much as I like you, Gris, I don't appreciate creepy-crawlies in the dead of night."

"I'm an insomniac, especially when I'm away from home. What's your excuse?"

"Couldn't sleep," Sara tossed the chenille throw off her legs and the coolness of the house swept over her. "When I was a kid and I couldn't sleep, I'd come down here and watch movie after movie until I got tired. My parents never knew."

"What are you watching?" Grissom glanced at the television.

"Oh...._The Basketball Diaries_. One of my old favorites," Sara said sheepishly. "Want to watch Leonardo DiCaprio go through heroin withdrawal?"

Grissom gave a small smile. "What else you got?"

Sara glanced at the small stack of cassettes on the coffee table beside her bowl of popcorn. "Um. _Wet Hot American Summer_ and _The Breakfast Club_. _Good Morning Vietnam_ and _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_. What about _The Goonies_? _If These Walls Could Talk_? Not your taste?"

"Nope. Not at all."

"You'd probably prefer something about the lifespan of the Goliath beetle, right?"

"No, I prefer Hitchcock. But, Leonardo DiCaprio will do for now."

"There's only less than half an hour left. Popcorn?" Sara offered as Grissom sat next to her on the couch. She couldn't help but notice he was wearing red flannel pajama pants and a faded black t-shirt, very un-Grissom. Especially since the t-shirt read, _Do Not Start With Me, You Will Not Win_—a gag gift from Catherine.

"No, thank you."

Sara hit play and they watched the movie in silence as Mark Wahlberg accidentally pushed a Hispanic drug dealer off a roof. Sara and Grissom watched as the dealer fell several stories and ended up impaled on a cop car.

"We killed him."

"The fuck you mean, we?"

"This was truly one of your favorite movies?" Grissom asked as the police apprehended Mark Wahlberg.

"Truly. Saw it three times in the theater; this is my second copy because I wore the first one out. I was a Marky Mark fanatic."

"I know. I saw the Good Vibrations poster in your room."

"You went into my room?" Sara paused the video again as Lorraine Bracco called the police on Leo. She turned to him angrily. "How did you get to my room? It's in a _private_ _wing_!"

Grissom held up his hands in defense. "I got lost, okay?"

Sara considered locking her door when she finally got to sleep that night.

They finished _The Basketball Diaries_ a few minutes later. Grissom looked slightly uneasy by what he'd seen, between the heroin withdrawal and Leonardo DiCaprio receiving phallacio from a middle-aged man in a bathroom stall.

"Another?" Sara asked. "It's only a quarter to three."

"A short one," Grissom agreed.

"I feel like laughing." Sara dug into her pile of cassettes and handed Grissom_ Monty Python and the Holy Grail_. "John Cleese is the extreme cure for the blues."

"I've never seen this one. And I actually like Monty Python." Grissom got up to pop the tape into the VCR.

"No! You can't be a true Monty Python fan until you've seen_ Holy Grail_! God, Wiley and I would quote this movie from beginning to end, we drove my parents crazy, running around calling ourselves 'the knights who say, _ni_!' And I'm sure Cecilia went insane with Wiley going around telling people, 'I fart in your general direction'. It's _Holy Grail's_ fault I pronounced 'knights' ka-nig-ets until I was twelve."

"A Harvard-bound child said 'ka-nig-ets?"

"I wasn't Harvard-bound until I was sixteen," Sara smiled.

Despite all efforts, Sara ended up falling asleep halfway through the movie. She didn't know how much longer Grissom lasted, but when she awoke, it was daylight and she was in bed, the chenille throw from the living room still around her knees.

Did Grissom carry me to bed? she thought as she sat up and looked around. _Or did I sleepwalk?_

The latter was a possibility, she had been known to sleepwalk when she was younger, ending up in strange places in the morning—an overnight guest's closet, the bathtub, underneath her parents' bed. It wasn't a big deal until a few of guests had complained about Sara wandering around at night, claiming it made them uneasy. So Eavan, a light sleeper, attached a bell to Sara's bedroom door. It worked—Eavan was able to follow Sara and take her back to bed. But this was years ago. Sara hadn't sleepwalked since she was ten or eleven.

Sara got out of bed and slipped her feet into her yellow rubber thongs and padded into the dining room for breakfast. Eavan and Phil were there, along with Elizabeth, Megan and Sophie, Wiley and Polexia and Grissom. She was also the only one still in her pajamas.

"Good morning, Sunshine," chirped Eavan. "Sleep well?"

Grissom eyed her from behind the morning newspaper as she answered, "Yes."

"Pancakes, Sunshine?" Phil asked her, standing up. "I was just about to make a fresh batch."

"Sure. Thanks."

"Oh, Sara," Polexia said, "you've got the final fitting for your dress this afternoon. I need to take Libby, Sophie and Megan, too. Want to ride down with us?"

"Sounds nice," Sara grinned. She really did like Polexia.

"We can get ice cream later, right Aunt Polly?" asked Megan.

Polexia blushed slightly at being called _Aunt Polly_. "Sure, don't see why not."

"So, Mr. Grissom," Wiley said. "Does Sara's mood differ here than from Las Vegas?"

The table was silent as they awaited Grissom's answer. Grissom slowly lowered his newspaper and saw Sara's shoulders tense. He gave her a moment's stare and shrugged. "I see the same person."

"I would think otherwise," Wiley replied as everyone, especially Sara, relaxed. "She was always a pretty serious kid."

"Sara can loosen up if you give her a chance."

"You sound like the voice of experience."

"It's not experience, it's expectation," Grissom folded the paper. "I never see Sara outside of CSI, therefore I can only assume."

"Well, Mr. Grissom, you know what they say about those who assume."

"Of course I do, Wiley," Grissom said, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "I meet those people every day."


	8. Veronica

Grissom left Sara's Place after breakfast to visit his mother, so Sara felt relief that she would not have to see him for most of the day.

She accompanied Polexia to Apollo and Dionysus Bridal not soon afterwards. She sat in the front seat of Wiley's Ford while Elizabeth, Megan and Sophie crammed into the backseat.

"What about Kirya?" asked Sophie.

"What about her, honey?" asked Polexia, already taking on the motherly role for her stepdaughters.

"What about _her_ dress?"

"Kirya's mother is taking care of her dress," Polexia replied and to Sara whispered, "Veronica got a great deal at one of the pageant warehouses."

"Oh," was all Sara could say.

Maia was happy to see Sara again and delighted to see the younger girls. Of course, the final adjustments were made for everyone.

"You guys can take these home today," she said, smoothing the skirt of Elizabeth's junior bridesmaid dress.

"Good," Polexia smiled. "And you guys will get your flowers on the day of the wedding I'm having wreaths made for the girls."

"Sounds lovely, Polly. How's Elsa? Trying to squeeze into her dress?" Maia made a face as if she'd bitten into a rotten walnut.

"Last I heard she was eating nothing and drinking only water."

Sara wanted to laugh.

"Beauty is pain, my dears," Maia smiled as she helped Megan out of her dress.

Once Maia was assured that each dress was perfect in its own way and fit to a T, she packed each dress with loving care and sent the girls on their way.

"That was fun," Sophie said as they piled into the old Ford, the dresses in the trunk. Sara could tell Polexia was nervous about putting them in there, but there was no room in the backseat.

"We're gonna look _sooo_ pretty in our dresses!" Megan exclaimed.

"I can't _wait_!" Elizabeth squealed. "I want to take _lots_ of pictures to show my friends back at school!"

"Keep the camera away from me," Sara muttered.

"I _can't_," Elizabeth said. "I have to show my friends. I tell _all_ of them about my cool aunt Sara."

"Really?" Sara twisted around in the front seat.

"Yeah. I tell them about your job mostly, but that makes you cool."

"Is that the only thing that makes me cool?"

"Of course it is."

Megan and Sophie giggled as Sara rolled her eyes. "Very funny, Libby."

"_We_ think you're cool anyway," Sophie said proudly. "_We_ don't care about your job."

"_Yeah_," Megan affirmed, sticking her tongue out at Elizabeth, who retaliated with the same maneuver. Sophie did the same at Elizabeth again, to get even.

"Hey," Polexia said, looking in her rearview mirror at the girls. "Do I have a backseat of young ladies or snakes?"

Sara had to laugh. "You're gonna make a super step mom, Polly."

"You think so?" Polexia grinned.

"Sure."

Polexia gave a sigh full of relief. "Thank you, Sara," she said, reaching over and squeezing Sara's hand. "I needed to hear that."

* * *

Later that day, Sara was sitting on the front steps reading a book Wiley lent her, _The Da Vinci Code_, when a sleek black limousine pulled up to the front of Sara's Place. She looked up and down the street, wondering if anyone else was watching._ Who could this be?_

The passenger door flung open and a little girl's high, chime like voice echoed across the rolling lawn. "AUNT SA-WA!"

Sara stood up and grinned widely. She knew _exactly_ who this was. She put down her book, stood and held her arms out, "Kiki!" she exclaimed.

Rosy and dimpled, Kirya, Sara's five-year-old niece, stumbled out of the limo wearing an extravagant peach dress, a mess of ruffles and sequins, and a prizewinning smile. Sara could tell she was fresh from her latest beauty pageant, just by the excitement in the girl's eyes and the makeup that was still caked onto her face. She ran across the lawn and flung herself, full force, into her aunt's arms. Sara buried her nose in Kirya's golden curls and inhaled a harmony of scents—perfume, hairspray, leather.

Kirya's mother, Veronica, stepped out of the limo moments later, shouting, "Kirya Grace, _don't_ wrinkle that _dress_!" and slipping Versace sunglasses in front of her eyes and stepping across the lawn of Sara's Place in lavender high-heeled sandals. She was dressed in a lavender skirt and blazer outfit, her blonde hair piled like soft-serve ice cream on top of her head, her makeup perfect. She put a hand over her eyes, "Sara, is that you?"

"Veronica! Hi!" Sara put Kirya down and held the child's hand. "How'd she do?"

"Second runner up," Veronica cringed behind her sunglasses. "We were beaten by a six year old whose talent was balloon animals."

"That's impressive for a six year old."

"Kirya was very broken up, weren't you, Kirya?" Veronica bent to touch her daughter's cheek with the palm of her hand and then held Kirya's chin between her thumb and forefinger. "But now we _know_ that if we _want_ to place _higher_ next time, we _need_ to learn our _song_ a little _better_." Veronica had Kirya sing for her talent, dressing her up like Shirley Temple and singing "Good Ship Lollipop".

Kirya did a curtsy and giggled. Then she stuck her tongue out at Mommy. She didn't look broken up to Sara.

"Are you staying for the wedding?" Sara asked curiously.

"Oh, God no," sighed Veronica with disgust. "No, no, I just came by to drop Kirya off and I'm off to Puerto Rico for the long weekend with my friend Rosemarie and her private jet. Kirya, on the other hand, has spoken of nothing else but coming to see her sisters and her aunt Sa-_rah_."

"Aunt Sa-wa," Kirya grinned.

"_Rah_, darling, _rah_. You _need_ to _enunciate_ those R's. Tsk. I _must_ employ a speech coach for her, or she'll _never_ outgrow that lisp," Veronica sighed.

Sara smiled, "I don't know, Veronica. You can get away with a lot with a lisp like that. Could be why she's won all those titles."

"Mmm. Well, I'm off. Please give Wiley and his new wifey my regards," Veronica air-kissed Sara on both cheeks and gave Kirya a nice big one that left a smudge of lipstick. "Be a good girl, Kirya, and play nice with the other children." She tapped Kirya on the nose with a perfectly manicured finger. "By the way, I'm putting Kirya in the Holiday Princess pageant again this year, Sara. I hope you'll be able to make an encore appearance."

"I'll sure try."

With that, Veronica got back into the limo and took off, but not before the driver had brought Kirya's luggage to the porch of Sara's Place.

Last year, Veronica had enrolled Kirya in a pageant around Christmastime: the Holiday Princess pageant she had spoken of. It was held annually in Las Vegas and Veronica notified Sara, who never passed up an opportunity to see her nieces and she accepted the invitation. When she got there, she almost wished she hadn't—screaming children, tense mothers and the smell of hairspray was permeated the hotel ballroom where the pageant was being held. She also hated the way these girls were dolled up and horrible images of JonBenet Ramsey flashed in front of her eyes. There were one hundred girls in ten age groups were competing—poor Kirya was a speck on the radar. However, when she saw her aunt Sa-wa rooting her on, her face erupted into the biggest smile the girl could muster.

"I'm gonna sing and dance _extra_ hard today for you!" she brightly told Sara before she went on stage for the first number.

There was only so much of the pageant that Sara could handle. It was sickening. She said nothing to Veronica, of course, who prattled on endlessly about this girl or that girl and her mother or what this mother did to get her daughter's last title. Sara spent the majority of the event in the hotel lobby, on her cell phone or laptop but kept a keen ear out for Kirya's name to be announced for each portion.

While most children would begin to bawl wildly at the sudden absence of their mother, Kirya stood strong as she watched Veronica's limo slink away. She tilted her pretty blonde head up and gave Sara an angelic look. "I'm not gonna cry, Aunt Sa-wa. So don't worry."

"I won't worry," Sara promised. She knelt and removed Veronica's lipstick residue from the child's cheek with the corner of her denim jacket. "Come on, let's go see your daddy."

* * *

"Where's Veronica?" asked Wiley when Sara had escorted Kirya to the backyard where the rest of the family was having lunch on the patio. 

"Puerto Rico. She dropped Kirya off five minutes ago. Tell your daddy what you placed, Kirya."

"Second wunner up," Kirya announced happily.

"Placed? Don't tell me Veronica put her in _another_ Tiny Little Darling Princess Pageant?" Wiley winced. He was not the biggest fan nor a supporter of child beauty pageants. When they were married, he couldn't stand the amount of money Veronica spent on the "habit", as he called it, between costumes and training. Sara secretly believed it was why he divorced her.

"I think it's sweet."

"Sunshine, I pray that you never have a daughter," Wiley shook his head with a smile.

She didn't tell Wiley that she prayed the same exact thing.

* * *

A/N So sorry so short!


	9. Cade

The rehearsal dinner was that night. The five other bridesmaids and Wiley's six ushers plus the best man and matron-of-honor with the ring bearer in tow arrived at Sara's Place promptly at seven PM, in semi-formal attire.

Sara was led this way and that by either Polexia or Wiley, being introduced to anyone she had not met yet. First was the wedding coordinator, a plump Philippino woman named Giovanna ("Oh, just Gia, if you please") Marcaida who talked with her hands and frowned at Sara's pale complexion. Polexia then introduced Sara to the matron of honor, her sister Crisli, and the ring bearer, Crisli's small son Troy. Wiley also made Sara acquainted with the usher who would be walking her down the aisle.

"We're pairing everyone alphabetically," Wiley said, "save the matron of honor and the best man. So, Sara Sidle, meet Cade Sheffield."

Cade Sheffield was tall and good-looking with stern brown eyes and slicked back dark hair. "Sara, a delight to meet you." He shook Sara's hand gently and Sara was charmed.__

"Cade is a professor of Russian lit at Alliant International University in San Diego," Wiley said to Sara. To Cade he said, "My kid sister Sara is a crime scene investigator in Las Vegas."

"Fascinating," Cade said. He held a martini glass in one hand and wore a slate-gray suit. "How long have you been in Las Vegas, Sara?"

"Almost six years," Sara said casually. "I used to be a coroner's assistant in San Francisco but I was transferred by the orders of Dr. Gil Grissom. I'm sure you've heard of him?" _What? Where did that come from?_

"Yes, yes I have. I've read about him in the paper a few times," Cade said, surprising the hell out of Sara. "Brought Clark County out of the investigation shithole, from what I understand. You must feel privileged to work for him."

"Very," Sara replied dryly.

"People, shall we get started?" Gia announced loudly. She clapped her hands sharply like a kindergarten teacher.

Sara found out Gia ran a tight shift, very much like Grissom. _Her_ way, no ifs, ands or buts. Like a drill instructor, she clapped her hands to a beat only she could hear as two by two the party marched down the "aisle"—or rather, a strip of carpet set up in the backyard of Sara's Place that led from the porch steps to a podium about eight yards away where the minister was standing.

"_Left_, right, together. _Right_, left, together," Gia chanted tirelessly. "Come _on_ people, the sooner we do this, the sooner you can eat. Wait, wait…where's the flower girl and ring bearer? Crisli, could you go get them?"

"Jeez, what a pain in the ass," muttered Cade.

"She's just doing her job," Sara replied.

"And she's very good at what she does. I just didn't know you got _paid_ for being a pain in the ass."

Sara rolled her eyes when Cade looked away, all the adoration she'd felt for him quickly flying out the window.

The rehearsal paused as Crisli Adare, Polexia's sister, went off in search for her son and Kirya.

"Damn kids," yawned Cade. "You got kids, Sara?"

"No. Thank God," she sighed. "I love my nieces and everything, but…"

Cade laughed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I can go without kids. They just fuck everything up, don't they? I mean, the only reason why we're not down the aisle right now is because of those little bastards."

Sara couldn't believe her ears. "_What_? How could you _say_ something like that? They're just _kids_!"

"You know, Cade, she's right. Shut the hell up, okay?" said a soft male voice behind Cade.

Cade whirled around. "Excuse me, _Delmore_, but the last time I checked, nobody hit your buzzer," he said nastily. He faced forward again.

Sara craned her neck to take a look at the guy who took Cade down a notch. He was short, at least a head shorter than his bridesmaid, Lilith, who stood five foot eleven. His face was boyishly handsome, his hair was ruffled and light brown, almost blonde, and his eyes were big and green.

"Hi," he whispered. "Aren't you Wiley's sister?"

"Yeah," Sara whispered back. She couldn't shake his hand but nodded a little. "My name's Sara."

"I'm Del, Del Gray."

"Hi."

"I'm sorry your escort's a dick."

"You're not helping, Delmore," Cade snapped without turning around.

Del scoffed a little, showing an abhorrence for his full name. Sara giggled a bit.

"Okay," rang Gia's voice, clapping madly. "We've found our little munchkins! Thank you, Crisli, for going to go get them."

"No problem," said Crisli, sauntering back to the head of the line. She looked exactly like her sister, except leaner and taller. Sara heard later that Crisli was a former ballerina.

Gia continued her "_left_-right-together-_right_-left-together" chant until the last person was down the aisle, even Kirya and Troy, the latter clutching the little velvet pillow that would hold the rings and the former swinging a wicker basket empty of rose petals. When it came the time for Polexia to make her way down the aisle on the arm of her father, Gia abandoned her harsh marching routine.

"Polly, this is your time to shine, so just _glide_, okay? You're an angel in white, just _glide_. Smile and _glide_, okay?"

Sara wished she could talk to Maaike, but she was too far down. Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Del lean over and whisper something into Troy's ear, making him giggle.

"He is just _too cute_!" sighed Lilith, the soap opera star's wife. "He's the only usher who's still single, you know, Sara. I bet the two of you would click nicely."

"Maybe," Sara said. He looked too young for her and reminded her, for some reason, of Greg Sanders.

"Oh, _please_," Elsa rolled her eyes. "Del wouldn't want a girl like Sara."

"How's your weight loss plan going, Elsa?" Sara asked. "Hungry?"

Elsa shot Sara a nasty look but remained quiet.

"Don't pay any attention to her," Lilith whispered. "She and Leo are having some marital problems. She's jealous that you and Del have a chance."

Sara glanced at Del again, who was energetically entertaining Troy, the two of them giggling like mad.

"I think there's definitely potential for you guys," Lilith insisted. "He's so cute, he's sweet and funny and he's _smart_!"

"What does he do?" Sara's eyes went from Del and Troy to Gia fussing over Polexia and her father Lemuel.

"He's a civil rights lawyer."

"He doesn't look old enough to be a lawyer."

"Well, he's twenty-nine."

Not bad. Sara pursed her lips. "Well, you never know. Something might happen."

* * *

Sara almost had a good time at the rehearsal dinner, which was held beneath a massive white tent in the backyard. Already the numerous tables and chairs for the guests were set up, their tables nude, waiting to be decorated the next morning. The dance floor had been installed earlier that evening and the DJ had already set up his equipment. 

Cade, the usher who had walked Sara down the aisle, also sat next to her and incessantly hit on her. Sara acted lackadaisically, uninterested, but he was persistent. She didn't tell him that she did indeed notice the band of gold encircling the third finger of his left hand.

"You know," Cade said at one point, "my hotel room? I got a nice little minibar there. How 'bout later you come back? We'll have a few drinks…get to know each other?" His hand roamed up to Sara's thigh. She jerked away and gritted her teeth.

"No thanks."

"Oh, come on," Cade whispered seductively. His hand slipped under the fabric of Sara's skirt. She gasped at his audacity and forcefully moved his hand away. "Don't be a fucking tease."

She smelled alcohol on his breath. Lots of it. "Please, leave me alone. You're married."

"Married? What does that _mean_ nowadays?"

"It means you shouldn't be hitting on me," Sara put venom in her voice.

"Wow. Well, if you want to play hard-to-get…"

"I don't want to _play_ anything," she hissed. She got up from her seat and left the tent. She felt eyes following her, many pairs of eyes, wondering where she was going and what she was doing. She didn't care.

She went into the house. Nobody was home. Phil and Eavan had gone out to dinner. Everyone else was outside. Before Sara had a chance to open the double doors to the family wing, a pair of hands clamped down on her shoulders and whirled her around. She recognized the pair of eyes she met. Cade.

"Come on, Sara," he said. "Don't ruin the party."

"The only one ruining anything is you," spat Sara.

Cade's hands roamed from her shoulders to her breasts. "Don't make me beg, baby."

Sara forcefully pushed Cade away very forcefully, but he responded by latching his hands around her wrists and kissing her. It wasn't much of a kiss—Sara kept her mouth shut and unyielding but somehow Cade's tongue snaked through. Sara attempted a head butt but Cade dodged out of the way.

"Whoa there. Like it rough?" he hissed. "Come on, take me to your bedroom…"

"Like hell," Sara replied through gritted teeth.

"Mmm, Sara, Sara," Cade nuzzled her neck and cheek, smelling her hair. "Sooo sexy. So fucking hot…"

"GET OFF!" Sara bellowed and really started to fight back, squirming and writhing. She tried to kick and knee him in the groin but to no avail. As Sara fought Cade off, he seemed to think that this was a turn on and continued to advance, kissing her neck and chest, unzipping her skirt and trying to pull her top off.

In the midst of all the combat, somehow Cade managed to get the door of the family wing open. He tried to drag her in but she resisted and resorted to scratching. He made the mistake of freeing one of her hands to fondle her breasts. Her nails raked his face, chest, arms.

"Cade! What the hell are you doing?!"

Sara saw Del hurry over, pulled Cade off of her and promptly hit him across the face with a superb left hook. Cade stumbled backwards and went down but he was not unconscious.

"You okay?" Del asked Sara, out of breath.

Sara, rubbing her wrists, nodded. Forlornly, she pulled her skirt up from around her knees and pulled her shirt down that was bunched up underneath her breasts. _Don't cry…don't cry…_

"I saw you leave and Cade followed you and when you guys didn't come back…I'm sorry if I—" Del blushed profusely. "I didn't mean to play the hero…but Wiley asked about you." He whirled around and stood over Cade, who had blood trickling from his nose. "And _you_! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

"N-nothing," Cade panted. "Aw, man, you know how the chicks get…she was all over me…we were gonna have a good time, Del, and she started goin' apeshit…"

Del dragged him up to his feet and they stood eye-to-eye. "Something tells me you're lying through your teeth. You're lucky if I don't tell Amanda but if Wiley finds out, you can count yourself out of this wedding. His _sister_, man!" Del pushed Cade back down.

"Yeah, like you've got the balls to say anything to Wiley," Cade retorted.

"Watch me, Sheffield. Not only will I tell Wiley but I'll call Amanda right here and tell her every damn thing and Sara will, too."

"Aw, man," Cade's voice sounded like a child's. "Don't tell Amanda, man. She's my love, my life…"

"_Then why the hell are you trying to fucking rape your friend's sister_!"

"Del?" Sara saw Wiley enter the scene now. He looked worried. "Sunshine, are you okay?" he ambled over to her. "Why are your wrists red? Are you crying?"

_Don't cry, don't cry._ "I'm fine," Sara said hoarsely. "Just came to use the bathroom."

"Del, what's going on? Cade, what happened to your nose?" Wiley gave Cade a hand to help him up.

"I, uh…walked into a wall," Cade said. His mouth was bleeding a little bit now, too, as Sara saw when he stood.

"Sara?" Wiley stared at his sister—something was not right. She was staring at her wrists now. "Ready to come back to the party?"

"Y-yeah," Sara said softly. "Gimme a minute, huh?"

"Sure, sure. Take your time. Cade, Del, shall we?" Wiley and Cade left to go back outside. Del lingered.

"Here," Del reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief. "It's okay to cry now."

"Thank you," Sara said, taking the kerchief. She dabbed at her eyes, already welling up with tears.

"Cade's a fucking moron, if you'll pardon my French," Del said sympathetically. "He says he loves Amanda, but he's been screwing around on her since day one. This is the first time he's tried anything like…like _this_."

Sara couldn't think of a way to properly respond to that. "I'm going to have bruises tomorrow," she said, staring at her wrists again.

"I'm sorry," Del took one of her hands into both of his. "I'll tell Wiley to switch Cade and me at the ceremony tomorrow, so you don't have to walk with him. Besides, I look so ridiculous standing beside that Amazon woman. You're closer to my height."

Sara gave a small giggle into Del's handkerchief. He smiled.

"Good. You're not completely harmed. My mom used to say, if you can still smile, it can't be that bad." He gave a friendly, gentle kiss on the one hand he held. "Keep the hankie. You may need it later on."

"Okay," Sara replied.

Del gave a wink of his green eyes and left the room too, back to the party, back to the food, back to the laughter. Sara was left by herself once again. She replaced a table lamp that Cade had knocked over when Del punched him out and went to the kitchen phone and dialed the only number she could think of.

"Gil Grissom."

Sara suddenly lost her voice when she heard that beautiful, familiar voice.

"Gil Grissom," he repeated.

"Grissom…it's me…"

"Sara? Speak up, honey, I can't hear you."

"Grissom," Sara said, a bit louder. "C-could…could you come back to Sara's Place? I need you."


	10. Kirya

Sara spent the night in Grissom's arms. There was nothing sexual about it, but as soon as he hurried back to Sara's Place, she fell into his embrace, a mess, and drowning in her own tears. She spilled out what had happened between racks of sobs.

"I'd n-never been so-so scared," she gasped.

They were now sitting in Sara's room, after she told him the epic tale, on her neatly made daybed. Grissom was sitting upright, with Sara's head against his chest and his arms encircling her waist. She didn't want to be in the living room, where anyone could walk in and catch them in an embrace.

She never returned to the party, which was still going on, and nobody came to check on her. She didn't want to return and see Cade. He frightened her now.

"It's okay," Grissom soothed her. "It's okay to be scared, Sara. You don't need to put on an act all the time. You don't need to be brave." He wiped away a single tear, a tear of betrayal to Sara, who was ashamed of showing such a weakness.

It was such a comforting thing to have Grissom here, holding her. They spoke in hushed tones in the bedroom of Sara's childhood, with only one side table lamp lit, casting a shadowy jaundiced look over everything.

"Why, Grissom? Why are some men like that? Why do they marry four times or never at all? Why do they cheat on their wives or kill them?"

"Shhh. Don't talk like that," he rocked her a little like a child. "Some men are pigs, I'll admit it. Cade Sheffield currently tops the list."

Sara sniffled. She still clutched Del's handkerchief. It smelled like his cologne. "I don't…I don't want you to think that I'm a coward…"

"Why would you say something like that?" he stroked her cheek tenderly. "You're not a coward, Sara."

"I couldn't fight him off. I should have been able too."

"No, no, no. Don't make this your fault. It's completely his. And it's damn lucky that Del showed up. Talk about a knight in shining armor, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Sara," Grissom sighed. "If I'd been here…I wouldn't have just punched the guy out…I would have killed him."

Sara's heart jumped to hear him say that.

"A married man behaving so shamefully, especially someone associated with your brother in your parents' house. Wiley should be told about this."

"No. No, I would prefer if nothing was said to him."

"I don't want that Cade guy near you, Sara."

"He's not staying here," Sara whispered. "He's at another hotel."

"Good, but I still think you should tell Wiley."

"No," Sara insisted. "It's taken care of. Now that Cade knows that Del can beat the shit out of him, there's no need to worry. I don't want to upset Wiley, it's his wedding day tomorrow."

Grissom grunted. "How does Wiley _know_ him?"

"They used to work at Alliant International University together."

"And he's been fooling around on his wife since 'day one', huh?"

"That's what Del told me." _Del_. Sara rubbed the fabric of the blue handkerchief between her fingers. Her eyes began to well up with tears again at the thought of him coming to rescue here.

A small knock on the door. Sara dabbed her eyes with the hankie and she felt Grissom tense.

"Who is it?" Sara asked.

"Aunt Sa-wa?" came Kirya's small voice. "Can I come in?"

Sara sat up a little and Grissom released his hold on her. "Sure, sweetie."

Kirya, angelic-looking in a baby blue and lace dress puffed out with layers of crinoline and her feet bare, came into the room. "Are you cryin'?"

"No, why would you say that?"

"Because your eyes is red."

"My eyes _are_ red," corrected Sara.

"Yes they are," Kirya said gravely. She came and climbed onto the bed. Sara knew Veronica would have a heart attack if she knew how Kirya was abusing the dress she currently wore. She sat in Sara's lap. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Mr. Grissom," Sara said.

"Are you her boyfriend?" Kirya asked Grissom, who blushed.

"No, no, I'm not," Grissom replied.

Kirya turned back to her aunt, "Troy is my boyfriend, Aunt Sa-wa, did you know that?" Then she put a small frown on her endearing face. "My mommy says you're a spinster. What's a spinster?"

"According to Webster's," said Grissom, "a woman who has remained single beyond the conventional age for marrying."

"Or, a lady who's never been married," Sara said. _Spinster, huh? Veronica can roast in hell._

"My daddy's been married lots of times."

"That's right."

"You two should get married," insisted Kirya, nodding at Grissom. "And have a little girl that I can play with." She planted a kiss on Sara's cheek and hopped off her lap. "I'm gonna go play with Troy. Think about what I said, okay?"

Once Kirya was out of the room, Grissom and Sara laughed in a nervous way.

"Out of the mouths of babes," Grissom said as Sara leaned back into his arms.

"I don't know where she gets it."

They lapsed into silence then, the soft ticking of the pink butterfly clock making Sara sleepy.

"Grissom," Sara said, drowsy, "do you have to go back to your room? Can you...can you stay here? With me? I don't feel like…like being alone tonight. I know Cade will be miles away, but—"

"Sara," Grissom replied softly, "you don't have to say any more."

Sara woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare that left her wet with sweat and choking on a scream. Grissom of course jolted awake and calmed her down.

"It's okay, honey…it's okay, you're safe…"

It was four AM. "Jesus," Sara said breathlessly. "I missed the party."

"I'm sure no one's upset. Why don't you get into your pajamas and get under the covers. The wedding is tomorrow, that's going to keep us busy all day, I'm sure. Well, _you_ at least."

"No…Grissom, don't leave…"

"If you need me, you know which room I'm in," he said. He got up from the bed and kissed her, on the cheek, very lightly and so close to her mouth that Sara wondered if he missed on purpose.


	11. Lorelei

For some reason, Sara awoke the morning of the wedding with butterflies in her stomach. She couldn't figure it out why—it wasn't _her_ wedding.

Wiley had taken his ushers to the hotel room his best man was staying in and let the ladies take over Sara's Place. He left the night before. Both he and Polexia were firm believes of it being bad luck to see each other before the wedding.

The only guest at Sara's Place not part of the wedding party was Grissom. He had ducked out of the house for the day. To where, Sara didn't know. However, she wished she could duck out too, and go wherever he was. She still hadn't thanked him for last night. He'd left in such a rush.

When Sara emerged from the family wing around nine, she saw Eavan and Cecilia along with all the bridesmaids plus Elizabeth, Sophie, Megan and Kirya, all gathered in the living room. It was bedlam. The room smelled of hair spray, nail polish remover and carnations.

"Sara!" Cecilia said once she spotted her. "Could you please help Kirya get dressed? And help Sophie and Megan too."

"What?" Sara was still in her pajamas. She needed to wash up and shower…and when was she supposed to eat? She tried to tell this to Cecilia, but she had already gone back to French-braiding Honore's mane of unruly dark curls. That was to be the hairstyle for all the maids.

"We can dress ourselves, Aunt Sara," Megan said. They too had just came from the family wing right behind Sara.

"You sure?"

"We're ten and twelve," Sophie rolled her eyes. "We know which way is up."

All four of Wiley's daughters were given their father's old bedroom to sleep in last night so the extra guest bedrooms would be free for the adults in the party. Last night, as Sara was reading in bed, the three older girls ambushed her with nail polish and makeup. Sara outright refused to let her nieces even come near her with the makeup but permitted a manicure and pedicure.

"Polly and Cee-Cee might have a fit and make you take it off," Elizabeth cringed as she coated Sara's toes with Midnight Blueberry.

"Well, it _is_ Polly's wedding," Sara pointed out, Megan's hand on her knee, painting the tiny, bitten-down nails Ginger Peach.

"I like her," Sophie suggested, brandishing a bottle of Desert Rose.

Elizabeth merely grunted. Sara guessed she felt the same way about Polexia the way Wiley did about Eavan—their mothers were first and always will be.

Sara managed to wrangle Kirya into her flower girl dress and Kirya, being the pageant trooper that she was, behaved like a champ. She squirmed for a few moments, eager to return to a game of hide-and-seek she was involved in with Polexia's nephew Troy, the only other child as young as she who would be at the wedding.

"I won't get dirty, I _promise_!" Kirya told her aunt Sa-wa before running off to find Troy, who, according to Kirya, was hiding "very goodly."

Meanwhile, Polexia was a nervous wreck. She trembled noticeably, but refused a mild tranquilizer from her sister Crisli's husband, a doctor. She also turned down cigarettes from Maaike and coffee from her mother.

"Just some water, please, Mother," Polexia gave a weak smile.

"I don't want you to faint while going down the aisle," Georgia Woulfe fretted, wearing an ivory gown. "Put something in your stomach, for God's sake!"

Eavan offered to make her something, anything she wanted. "I can run right into the kitchen and whip something up, Polly."

"I don't want to trouble you…" Polexia softly said.

"No trouble at all," Eavan said sweetly. In her beautiful green gown she'd bought special for the occasion, Eavan swept off into the kitchen.

Cecilia, in aqua, plunked down on the couch beside Sara, who was already dressed and buckling her shoes and now awaiting her turn for hair and makeup. "There goes your mom, Suzy Homemaker."

"She likes to take care of people," Sara replied, slightly offended.

"Oh, I understand that, Sunny. I'm just jealous," Cecilia patted Sara's knee. "Turn around. Let me do your hair."

Sara obeyed and let Cecilia comb out her hair and prepared to French-braid it. It had been ages since Sara had done anything with her hair except pull it into a ponytail or bun for work. Most of the time she left it down.

"Eavan's the kind of gal Phil wanted from the very beginning, I think," Cecilia continued. "A cooker, a cleaner, warm, loving, sweet. And _God_, is she maternal! I was _never_ like that, never at all. Still not. Lord knows how Wiley turned out normal!"

Eavan returned shortly with a platter of fresh vegetables and a small bowl of dip on a try. "Here, sweetie," she placed it on the coffee table in front of Polexia. "Fresh from my garden."

Cecilia nudged Sara in the back with her elbow, "A _garden_! See? I _never_ had a garden."

Sara had to laugh at that. She couldn't picture Cecilia digging in the dirt on her hands and knees. She might have broken a nail.

Polexia finally calmed down enough so that she could hold a glass of water and not have anything spill.

"Better, darling?" Georgia cooed.

"Yes, Mother. I'm fine," Polexia answered stiffly.

"Are you sure you don't want cigarette?" Maaike asked gently, her accent soft. She came over to kneel beside Polexia and squeeze her shoulder a bit. "Perhaps shot of whiskey? Make you calm down, loosen up."

"My daughter will _not_ poison her body for the sake of being calm! She is a _nurse_, for God's sake!" shrilled Georgia.

"Maybe she's the one who needs a cigarette and a shot of whiskey," Cecilia whispered to Sara. When she finished braiding Sara's hair minutes later and tied it off with a clear rubber band, Cecilia stood and announced, "We're getting down to the wire, ladies. I'm off to fetch the groom and his entourage."

Sara's last shred of sanity left with Cecilia, now trapped in a pink hell. She tried desperately to sink into the couch, but to no avail.

Maaike came to sit beside her, lit cigarette in hand. Her makeup was done and her hair was French-braided, with a wreath of carnations perched on top of her head. "Look like shit, no?"

"Who, Polly? Yeah, she's a wreck."

"No, I talking about us. Look like cotton candy. Puff the Magic Bridesmaid."

"You heard me say that at the cocktail party?"

"Little pitchers big ears," she ground out her cigarette in a glass ashtray engraved with _Sara's Place, Happy Twentieth Anniversary, 1987_.

"So, how's your daughter?" Sara asked, then wished she hadn't.

Maaike's face turned to stone. "How is this your business?"

"I'm just curious," replied Sara meekly.

"I hear from Lorelei every so often," Maaike said after a pause, examining her nails. "She doesn't like to write. She's not writer, not good with words. Not good with numbers. Lorelei is good for nothing but waiting tables and lying on her back."

"How can you say that about your own daughter?" Sara asked, a bit shocked.

"Not every child special, Sara," Maaike lowered her voice and explained hurriedly in her broken English. Sara never found out why Maaike never bothered to perfect her speech, she had been in America for over fifteen years. "Not every parent think their kid great. Lorelei is _not_ smart. She _doesn't_ use her head. How you think she get baby? She did not even tell me who father was! Sixteen years old, she doesn't need baby, so I told her get abortion. She said no, no. She say she want baby, think baby help her grow up. So I kick her out, take her to Prague where they have special home for girls like her. Why should I deal with pregnant daughter who wants to grow up? I'm grown up, I don't need baby to make me grow up. Not my fucking problem."

"Will Lorelei and the baby come back to America?"

"Maybe, when baby is older. Two years old now. Maybe she doesn't want to come back. Fine with me. She speak language, she comfortable there, has place to live with baby and a job. Waiting tables of course."

"Did she have a boy or a girl?"

Maaike reached underneath the couch they were sitting on and withdrew a Coach purse. She unzipped it and withdrew the matching wallet. She opened it and flipped through a collection of photos until she came what she wanted to show Sara: a beautiful teenaged girl with dark, curling hair and a heart-shaped face cradling a sleeping infant swathed in blue fleece. "Nicasio. My grandson." She let Sara hold the wallet as she lit another cigarette. "Taken when he was born."

Sara was looking more at Lorelei than at the baby. The heart-shaped face free of makeup made her look becomingly innocent. The dark hair and facial features were Maaike's. Hair tucked back revealed an ear pierced all the way around—gold, silver, rhinestones, studs, hoops. The hand on the baby's blanket was bedecked with black nail polish, stacks of rings and encircled with various bracelets. The baby, Nicasio, had dark hair like his mother and grandmother.

Sara stole a glance at Maaike. She was staring at the photograph so lovingly that Sara was convinced this woman was not as hard as she came off as. She probably loved her daughter and grandson more than life itself and for a few fleeting moments, Sara wished she could relate.

"They flew me from Los Angeles to be there when he was born," Maaike said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Looks like his mama, no?"

"He's beautiful," Sara agreed. "He's two years old now, huh?"

"Lorelei looks much like her father. Lorelei's father was my college professor," Maaike continued, ignoring Sara's question. "That is why Polly never knew who he was and Lorelei never knew either. He was handsome, so handsome. I did not care that he was older, older _and_ my superior. I was foolish. I thought…I thought he would leave wife, marry me, we all be happy family. But no, I was a fool. Stupid foreign girl to take advantage of." Suddenly, she snatched the wallet from Sara's hands and closed it with a snap. She put her cigarette in the ashtray as she put everything away. Only when the purse was tucked safely beneath the couch did she pick it back up again. "Happy now? You get sneak peek of my life, which I share with no one. Feel special, Sara Sidle."

And, for some reason, Sara did.


	12. Polexia

Del was true to his word. He had spoken to Wiley before leaving the rehearsal dinner about switching him and Cade in line.

"You have to admit," Del had said to the groom with a hearty laugh, like nothing was wrong. "Lilith and I look ludicrous."

Sara's heart pounded when she saw Cade linking arms with an emaciated-looking Elsa before the ceremony. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she felt as if she might heave up everything in her stomach from two days ago.

"Hey," Del whispered. "Smile, remember?"

"You know, in my line of work," Sara replied, thinking of Nick, "smiling offsets the gagging reflex."

"Really? My line of work, too."

Sara stifled a laugh as she spotted Gia coming down the line, straightening wreaths, smoothing wrinkles on dresses and fixing Polexia's veil.

"Okay, people!" Gia said as she paused in front of Del, flattening his pink tie. "Once the music starts, it's a go!"

No sooner were the words out of Gia's mouth than a soft lilting of a melody came in through the French doors of the living room that was leading out to the porch, from a small string quartet that had played at the cocktail party.

"Okay, here goes!" exclaimed Gia in a whisper. "Elizabeth and Keith, go!"

Elizabeth, the junior bridesmaid, was first out of the house and down the aisle, looking like she was ready for the prom on the arm of her junior usher—Keith, the son of Wiley's best man.

Gia continued her direction, "And Daphne and Gavin, go. _Left_, right, together. _Right_, left, together. Go, go! Okay…Maaike and Andrew, go…"

On she went. Sara and Del were the last to go before Crisli, the matron-of-honor, trailed by Kirya and Troy. At the very end, near the minister, beneath a beautiful arch of pink and white flowers, Sara could spot Wiley and his best man, his childhood friend Liam. Like the ushers, Liam wore silken a pink tie and cummerbund to match the bridesmaid dresses while Wiley was spared the pink (to Sara's dismay) and instead wore a sophisticated all-white tux.

Sara held her breath and prayed she wouldn't tumble down the porch steps in these stupid pink high heeled sandals she wore while still trying to remember the rhythm Gia had pounded into her brain (_left_-right-together-_right_-left-together). Del must have read her mind, for he held onto her tightly. She grinned as he guided her steps (_left_-right-together-_right_-left-together).

When the pair marched (_left_-right-together-_right_-left-together) down the aisle past the guests, Sara spotted Grissom and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He had a look of adoration on his face and his lips curved into a soft smile. She blushed slightly as she marched past him (_left_-right-together-_right_-left-together). Her parents sat beside each other, their hands entwined, in the first row, possibly remembering their own wedding. Cecilia was seated beside Phil, a slim digital camera in hand. Sara fought the urge to wince when Cecilia flashed a picture in all her Pepto-Bismol glory.

Sara and Del parted ways at the alter and he gave her a small wink. She took her spot beside Lilith and watched as little Kirya sprinkled rose petals as dainty-as-you-please all over the aisle for Polexia. Her flower girl dress was the perfect shade of pink with seven tiers of lace and ruffles. She also wore in her hair a flowered wreath and had ribbons trailing down the back. Troy, the little ring bearer, looked handsome in his miniature tux, complete with the pink tie and cummerbund. He held his pillow up high, the rings securely attached and glinting in the sunlight.

Then, the wedding march. The familiar chords filled the air as the guests stood and watched Polexia descend the porch stairs. An angel in white, just like Gia had said. There was a beautiful silvery glow about her, making her look like she wore a halo. Megan and Sophie held the train as Polexia made her way down the aisle on her father Lemuel's arm. She seemed to take forever, basking in the glory of her family and friends. Sara wondered how many on the bride's side knew that Polexia was to be her brother's fourth wife. She then chastised herself for thinking that way.

Wiley seemed to be lost in his gaze of his bride-to-be. He couldn't take his eyes off her for one moment, drinking her in.

Oh, how much he really did love her! Sara thought. _Yes, they are going to be different, I can feel it. This is not a quickie thing. Something about the way he's staring…they're going to last._

Polexia and her father reached the alter beneath the arch and the music ceased. The guests were seated and the minister, a heavy older man with a jolly disposition who spoke with the silkiness of a professional thespian, began the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this day, the twelfth of June, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony…"

Sara didn't pay much attention to the minister's speech. Her eyes roamed the guests, particularly the ones on Polexia's side. Those who resembled rodents were probably from her mother's family and the ones looking like models were most likely from her father's.

Sara snapped back to the ceremony. The minister had finished his speech and they were now exchanging rings.

The minister turned to her brother: "Repeat after me, please. 'I, Wiley Martin Sidle'…"

"I, Wiley Martin Sidle," Wiley's voice was strong and deep.

"'Take thee, Polexia Merise Woulfe'…"

"Take thee, Polexia Merise Woulfe…"

When the ring had been slipped onto Polexia's finger, it was her turn to repeat the vows.

"I, Polexia Merise Woulfe, take thee, Wiley Martin Sidle…" Polexia's voice came as soft and as delicate as a feather.

"By the power vested in me," the minister said, in a "this-is-the-finale-folks" voice, "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

With beautifully dramatic gestures, Wiley lifted the filmy veil and planted the sweetest of kisses on the lips of his new bride. Sara felt the her stomach do flip-flops—oh, _that's_ the way Grissom should have kissed her last night! The guests released a collective blissful sigh and the women dabbed at their eyes with tissues or hankies.

The ceremony concluded with the bride and groom retreating into the house to take pictures on the front lawn of Sara's Place. The wedding party exited behind them, in line, as they would be included in the pictures as well. Kirya and Troy raced ahead, their childish giggling wafting through the air like a breeze.

"Some show, huh?" Del smiled, catching up to Sara. "Jeez, you sure walk fast for a girl."

"I do a lot of walking," Sara replied. She saw Grissom chitchatting with her mother out of the corner of her eye, a small smile playing upon his lips. Idly, she began to toss her nosegay of carnations up in the air and catch it again. "I used to be a track star, can't do anything slow."

"Yeah? Me too. I was a hurdler," Del boasted.

Sara eyed her escort up and down. "You don't look tall enough to jump hurdles."

"My mom used to tell me I had legs that went all the way up to my neck."

"Your mom sure says a lot, huh?" Sara smiled.

"Too much sometimes," Del gave her a sideways smile.

Posing for pictures was excruciating. The sandals Sara was wearing were biting viciously into her feet. She was definitely going to have blisters. And her stomach was growling. She hadn't eaten breakfast and it was past lunchtime.

"One more, once more," was the photographer's eternal chant. It was worse than Gia's _left_-right-together-_right_-left-together.

"Kill me," Maaike muttered through gritted teeth.

"Shh," snapped Lilith as Sara fought the urge to laugh.

They were finally released after nearly two hours of snapping cameras and posing and smiling. Sara was sure her cheek muscles were permanently damaged. She'd never smiled so much in one day. The photographer had even called in Eavan, Cecilia, Phil and Polexia's parents, Georgia and Lemuel, in for a few photos. Eavan hesitated when she was asked to stand with everyone, but Cecilia and Phil insisted.

"You helped raise Wiley too, you know," Phil said.

Sara's favorite of the pictures was of the newlyweds posing with all four of Wiley's girls. Elizabeth looking very grown up in her junior bridesmaid gown, Megan and Sophie in matching dresses and Kirya looking like a perfect little Dresden doll.

"Beautiful family," the photographer remarked. "All looking like cherubs."

It struck Sara as funny that her new sister-in-law was the only one in this photo who had red hair.

As the wedding party trekked back to the party, Sara and Del walked slower, lagging behind, to chat.

"Save a dance for me, okay?" Del asked.

"Of course," Sara smiled. "I owe you…so much. A dance is the least I could do."

"It's all I want you to do."

"Oh, Del…if you hadn't been there…I don't know what Cade would have done…"

"Don't mention it," Del blushed. "After all, I promised I would look out for you."

"What?"

Del suddenly looked as if he had swallowed an ice cube unexpectedly. "Oh, uh…um, n-never mind…" he mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Never mind," Del said, louder. "I'll see you later, kid. Just remember the dance, okay?"

He hurried ahead, leaving Sara in a fog of confusion. She tossed her nosegay up in the air one more time and decided to go get a drink.


	13. Bennie

A/N: I hold no rights to the song "Home" by the Dixie Chicks or any other of the songs that appear in this chapter...enjoy muchly...

* * *

After the ceremony, there was a short cocktail hour before everyone was led beneath the immense white tent to start dinner and dancing. All the decorations were up as opposed to last night when it was all bare. The tables were adorned with tablecloths in Polexia and Wiley's wedding colors: pink, white and a soft, mossy green. Bunches of pink carnations and baby's breath in ceramic pots with _Wiley and Polly_ written in calligraphy served as centerpieces, along with floating candles shaped like lotus flowers bobbing up and down in little glass bowls of water. Icicle lights lined the inside of the tent. The young DJ was playing great music and a few electric disco balls on his table created splashes of light every so often. Behind his booth was a large neon sign that said _Congratulations Polly & Wiley!_

As Sara was about to get up from her seat at her assigned table with all the other maids to return to the bar for another Jack Rose, her fifth, she heard that voice again.

"Sara Sidle, I've never pictured you as one for wearing pink."

Sara turned in her chair to see Grissom behind her and she grimaced slightly at his comment, "I look like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol." There. She'd said it aloud.

Grissom smiled slightly. "If it's any consolation, I'm miserable in a tux. And pink brings color to your cheeks. Would you like a drink?"

"Oh...no thanks," Sara shook her head. She didn't want to tell Grissom she'd had four already. She sighed and watched Wiley and Polexia dance their first dance to the song they had chosen: "I Got You Babe." How very like her brother, Sara thought. "God, Wiley is such a ladies' man. I can't believe this is his fourth wedding."

"Did you attend the last three?"

"Oh, no. The only reason I'm here is because my brother asked me to personally. Otherwise I wouldn't be caught dead."

Grissom chuckled a bit.

"It's nice, though, that he finally gets to experience a huge affair like this. His last three were pretty small, from what I understand. Cecilia's thrilled," Sara nodded towards Cecilia, who, in her fabulous aqua dress, was encircled by four men much younger than she—at least twenty years her junior—laughing with her head thrown back and a Cosmopolitan in one hand. "Polly's parents look thrilled, too, don't you think?"

Grissom swiveled his head towards the bride's parents. Georgia and Lemuel sat stone-faced and dazed, each one clutching an alcoholic beverage and looking quite miserable. "Positively elated."

Sara laughed. "They can't believe they're paying for this thing. Polly's first marriage is Wiley's fourth."

Grissom shrugged and put his drink on the table. He stood up and held out a hand. "Come on. You look like you need to dance."

Sara gave him a look that could have killed a cow, "_I_ need to dance? Grissom, do you even know _how_ to dance?"

"Let's go, Sara," Grissom pulled her from her chair and took her onto the dance floor, where a soft country song was beginning to play. There were a four more couples on the dance floor now, including Wiley and Polexia.

_"I mistook the warnings for wisdom...from so called friends quick to advise. Though your touch was telling me otherwise. Somehow I saw you as a weakness..."_

Grissom put one hand on the small of Sara's bare back, and took one of her hands in his free one. Sara was at a loss. She'd never danced like _this_ before.

"Your other hand goes here," Grissom gently put Sara's hand on his shoulder.

_"I thought I had to be strong...oh, but I was just young, I was scared, I was wrong."_

"Follow my lead, kid," Grissom winked.

Sara, careful not to trod on Grissom's toes, lost herself in the music. She let Grissom lead and was butter in his arms. She hadn't felt like this...since forever.

"Not a night goes by I don't dream of wandering through the home that might have been. I listened to my pride when my heart cried out for you. Now every day I wake again in a house that might have been...a home..."

Her heart was pounding and she felt like she was floating. Was it because she was dancing with Grissom, his arms around her and her ear to his chest, listening to his heart beating? Or was it the mass amount of alcohol she had ingested being absorbed through her body?

"_Guess I did what I did believe in. That love is a dangerous thing, Oh but that couldn't hurt anymore than never knowing…"_

Sara tried to remember the last time she'd slow-danced like this. Probably in middle school, in eighth grade during one of those Teen Canteens that were held four times a year at her school. But this was definitely different. She was still wearing a lame dress, but in terms of the man whose arms she was in? Yeah, this was _not_ eighth grade.

"Not a night goes by I don't dream of wandering through the home that might have been. I listened to my pride when my heart cried out for you. Now every day I wake again in a house that might have been...a home..."

He wasn't a bad dancer. Sara wondered when the last time Grissom danced with a woman like this? This close, this intimate?

"Four walls, a roof, a door, some windows: just a place to run when my working day is through. They say home is where the heart is. If there's an exception to the rule, I guess that's true..."

Who taught him to dance? His mother was an option. From what Sara had heard, she sounded like a woman who would want her son to know how to dance like a gentleman.

"Not a night goes by I don't dream of wandering through the home that might have been. I listened to my pride when my heart cried out for you. Now every day I wake again in a house that might have been...a home...a home."

The song ended and the tempo picked up on the next one, and Sara felt her euphoria slipping away. She didn't want to let go but Grissom was loosening his hold and led her off the dance floor.

"Why Mista Grissom, I must say, you do dance divinely," Sara put on a smile and a false Southern accent.

Grissom laughed. "You sound like your eldest niece. Elizabeth, is it?"

"Yeah. Libby, we call her."

They spotted her dancing in her pink junior bridesmaid dress to "Suga Suga How You Get So Fly" with one of the waiters. She was laughing loudly, her head thrown back and trying to balance the circlet of carnations in her hair.

"She's got her aunt's looks."

Sara blushed and gave another glance at Elizabeth. Well, they did have the same narrow nose and arched eyebrows, but Sara didn't really see so many similarities between them. After all, Sara got the majority of her looks from her mother Eavan.

The mellow R&B song soon ended and then the yard was suddenly filled with pulse-pounding rap music.

"Ghetto superstar, that is what you are! Comin' from afar! Reachin' for the stars! Run away with me! To another place! We can rely on each other, uh-huh! From one corner to another, uh-huh!" blared the music. Sara saw Grissom wince and immediately know that this was not his type of music.

"Want to get out of here?" shouted Sara.

"Lead the way!" Grissom replied, plugging his fingers in his ears.

* * *

"I really _do_ hate weddings," Sara yawned. She examined carefully the swan pattern etched onto her drinking glass, half full with a cocktail called a White Dove that tasted vaguely of vanilla ice cream. They were sitting on the front gallery in the porch swing, far from the party, beneath the yellow glow of the overhead lights. The DJ's music could still be heard, but not as loudly. 

"Mmm," was all that came from Grissom, and the tinkling of ice as he swirled his scotch and soda.

"I mean, you spend all this money on fancy crap and for what? It's only one night. You're never going to wear that twenty thousand dollar dress _ever_ again. Six hundred dollar flowers will wilt and die in a matter of days. Food and cake are eaten within minutes without a second thought. It's just very stupid how much emphasis is put on weddings."

"Interesting insight."

"You never struck me as a wedding person either, Gris."

"I'm not, really. I mean, I _was_ almost married once…"

Sara nearly dropped her drink. "_What_?"

"Ah, I should have kept my mouth shut." Grissom swallowed his last sip of scotch.

"No, no, no, no, no. Start talking _now_, mister."

Grissom sighed. "It was just this girl, this girl Bennett Kolakowski, that I met at UCLA. We were in the same literature and psychology class."

"Bennett Kolakowski," Sara repeated the girl's moniker, liking the ethnic flair of the softly masculine first name paired with a tongue-twisting, Slovakian sounding surname. It was a lot more interesting than Sara Sidle.

"Yeah. Wavy brown hair, hazel-green eyes, majoring in education. Anyway, Bennie and I were going for, I don't know, a year or so, when she told me she was going to be studying abroad in Greece for her junior year and wouldn't be back until September. I couldn't believe my ears. So, in the heat of the moment and feeling like the world would cave in if Bennie left, I blurted a marriage proposal right there in the flatbed of my pickup over a basket of nachos from the Dairy Queen."

"You can get nachos at Dairy Queen?" Sara grimaced.

"I don't recommend it. Anyway, Bennie was stunned. It wasn't the marriage proposal she had been dreaming of, I can tell you that. I didn't have a ring, didn't get down on one knee, but she accepted. We planned the whole wedding in that following week, right down to the color of her shoes, and five days later Bennie got on a plane and headed for Athens.

"We kept in touch, I wrote her daily and she did the same."

"How romantic," Sara said.

"Bennie was in Greece for five months before I received a letter that changed everything."

"Uh-oh." Sara sounded like a kindergartener who just found out that the bears had come home while Goldilocks was sleeping. "What happened with Bennie's letter?"

"Well, once I surpassed the 'how are you' and the 'wish you were here' that appeared in all of her letters, the next paragraph began with, 'this isn't easy for me to say'," Grissom sighed. "I read that letter so many times, I committed it to memory."

"Tell, tell," Sara pressed.

Grissom narrowed his eyes and recited, "'This isn't easy for me to say, Gil, but I'm afraid we must cancel our wedding plans. We've been apart for so long and I should have seen it coming. I've fallen hopelessly in love with a wonderful Greek man. He is a poet and we have been spending an awful lot of time together. So much time, that I realized I am no longer interested in spending my life with you. We eloped last weekend.'"

"That's _it_?" Sara exclaimed. "What a shitty way to say I don't love you anymore. And here you were, devoted the entire time—"

"Uh, well, not the _entire_ time."

"No! _You_ fooled around on _Bennie_?" Sara grinned slyly.

"Let's just say I wasn't _that_ disappointed she broke the engagement."

Sara laughed loudly, a real laugh. A laugh Grissom hadn't heard from her in years.


	14. Daphne

Grissom and Sara returned to the tent just as the second course was being served. Sara headed for the maids' table, seated with Maaike on her left and Honore on her right, while Grissom went not too far away to where Cecilia, Phil, Eavan and a few others were already seated.

"See you later," Grissom said.

"Thanks for the dance," Sara replied, blushing.

"Don't mention it," he squeezed her shoulder affectionately before they parted.

"Sara," Daphne turned her big blue eyes to her once Sara took her seat directly across from her, "who's that _charming_ man you walked in with?"

"Huh?"

"The one in the beard," Maaike said. "Who's he?"

"Already looking for someone new, Maaike?" chirped Elsa.

"Why don't you go shove tampon down throat, you anorexic bitch," Maaike spat.

"I thought you had your eyes on Del, Sara," Lilith smiled. "I thought the pair of you were perfect for each other."

"Del? The cute young lawyer?" Honore glanced at the groomsmen table over the rim of her cocktail glass. Del and fellow groomsman Jack were playing table football and laughing. "Yeah, he's doable."

"For Sara or for husband number three, Honore?" Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"I want to hear more about this man that Sara's with," Elsa's smile crept across her face like kudzu. "Isn't he rather…_old_ for you, Sara? At least by fifteen years. He's gray already."

"I don't see how that's your business," Sara said icily.

"Maybe she like older men," Maaike said defensively. "Like you, Elsa. Isn't gray favorite color? How old is Leo again? Good twenty-five years older? Give or take?"

Elsa turned the same color as her dress but said nothing. Instead she got up and went to the bar. Honore followed her.

"Bitch," Maaike spat. "Both of them, bitch."

Daphne winced. "I'm sorry, Sara, about Elsa. She's a nosy little busybody. Would it come as a surprise that she's a gossip columnist in Palm Beach, Florida?"

"For the _Shiny Sheet_," Lilith added. "Palm Beach's biggest gossip page. Everybody's business is her business. I knew it when she came to interview Galán about the new season of _El Paraíso Perdi_ while we were in Florida."

"What's so bad about that?"

"We were on vacation!" Lilith pulled the corners of her mouth down. "Just lying on the beach, doing absolutely nothing! She just saunters on up to us—in a skirt and heels, no less—and just starts interviewing my husband! How she tracked us down I'll never know."

"Easy," Maaike said. "She has Lo-Jack."

"So," Daphne said brightly. "Now that Elsa's gone, who's your blue-eyed man?"

"He's not _my_ man," Sara said slowly. "He's my supervisor."

Maaike's face stiffened. "Are you in love with him?"

Sara's heartbeat sped up. "Why would you ask that?"

"You know why."

Of course. Maaike's daughter was the product of an affair with a superior. She was merely looking out for Sara, the way she never did with Lorelei.

"He's handsome, no? Strong looking, looks smart," Maaike continued absentmindedly. "Reminds me of Charles."

_Charles_. That must have the mysterious college professor that had impregnated Maaike, Lorelei's father. "There's nothing between us," Sara answered too quickly. "We're…old friends."

"Friends, yes," Maaike replied wisely, "but there is something for about him for you. I am thinking that he has the eye love for you."

"Eye love?" asked Sara and Lilith.

"Eye love. When a man is so infatuated with the woman he loves, his eyes can't help but to be following her. My father had the eye love for Mama. Charles had the eye love for me. I can recognize eye love in heartbeat's time."

Sara was sure that she was pinker than the gown she wore. Her ears went hot, as they usually did when she was caught between a rock and a hard place. "He does not," was all she could say in her own defense.

"Whatever you say," Maaike gave a sly smile, perhaps the first smile Sara had ever seen on her face.

"I think he's _divine_," Daphne said. She leaned in a little and lowered her voice. "Marry a man with blue eyes, Sara. They're noble, full of trust and understanding."

"_Noble_? Really?" Sara didn't even know anyone who said the word "noble" anymore.

"I've been married to Schaefer for fifteen years," Daphne said in her normal tone, "his eyes are like sapphires in his skull. Where I grew up in India, men with blue eyes were so wonderfully rare, they were considered lucky. All my life, I waited for a man with blue eyes to marry. My experience with blue-eyed men just seemed…I don't know, _better_ than the rest."

"That stupid," Maaike said. Sara was about to agree when Lilith jumped in.

"Maaike, do you have to ruin everything?" said Lilith, narrowing her eyes. She then turned to Daphne. "Galán doesn't have blue eyes, we've been married happily for five years."

"Oh, I'm not saying that you won't be _happy_ with a man who doesn't have blue eyes," Daphne said. "It's just that in my experiences, blue-eyed men were more satisfactory. For example: before Schaefer, I was going with this guy named Richard. He had brown eyes."

"So?" Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Let me finish! I was dating Richard for four years when I found out not only did he have another girlfriend besides me, he had embezzled from my stock account."

"So Richard was an asshole. What did this have to do with eyes?"

"Schaefer is the most attentive man I'd ever known. He was always sweet and sensitive, caring, _noble_," Daphne emphasized, "and remained faithful to me not only during our courtship but for our entire marriage. He loves our children more than life itself. That man loves _me_; I know this because his perfection scared me so that I hired a private detective for the first five years of our marriage. Perfect track record."

"So one brown-eyed man ruined it for them all?" Sara unpinned the carnation circlet from her head. It was beginning to itch.

"It wasn't just Richard," Daphne said, very serious now. "In my adult life, I've dated twelve men: four blue-eyed, not counting Schaefer. Those men were gods, Adonis's, saints, _every last one of them_. Those other eight shitheads? They cheated, they stole, they lied, they hit me. After Richard, I swore I wouldn't date or marry unless a blue-eyed man came along. I met Schaefer a month later at an outdoor concert and the rest is history."

"I still don't get," Maaike said. "What is it about the blue eye? It's just color, you know. It doesn't mean anything."

"It's just the luck of the draw. My mother always told me to marry a man with dark eyes," Lilith countered. "Joseph and Enrique both had dark eyes and so does Galán. Eye color doesn't mean a damn thing, Sara."

"It's like evidence in a case. It can mean everything or nothing. It all depends on how you look at it, I guess," Sara said, beginning to understand what Daphne was saying. Everyone had a talisman of some kind, a lucky star: Daphne's was blue-eyed men.

"It's what I believe," Daphne said, her voice sounding timid. "But Lilith, you've been married to three men all with dark eyes and divorced two of them. I've been married to one for fifteen years with blue. I don't think that's an accident, if you ask me."

Sara never thought twice about the color of someone's eyes revealing what was underneath. But she considered Grissom: he wasn't the type to cheat, steal, lie or hit. A man who danced like he did just didn't do those things.

"You know," Maaike swallowed thickly. "Charles…his eyes were gray."


	15. Del

"May I have this dance?"

"Yes, you may."

Del, with the charm of a long-ago gentleman, led Sara onto the dance floor. She felt the jealous green eyes of the rest of the maids following them and the blue eyes of one Gil Grissom.

It was much later now. The main course had already been served and they were waiting on Wiley and Polexia to cut the cake. The heavy dinner was settling into the stomachs of many, putting them in a stupor, but still cognizant enough to get up and slow-dance.

Del danced differently than Grissom: the junior-high-school way, Sara called it. Her arms around his neck and his arms encompassing her waist.

Sara would probably always remember the song that was playing while they danced—"Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5—but right now she couldn't care less. She just wanted to talk to Del now.

"So," she said, keeping her voice low, "tell me about yourself, Del Gray."

"What do you want to know?" Del gave a smile that dimpled his right cheek.

"Well, where are you from?"

"Dallas, originally," Del replied. "But I've been living in L.A. for the past seven years. And you?"

"You're looking at it," Sara smiled, her eyes swinging towards the house. "That's where I grew up. But I'm in Las Vegas now, going on six years."

"You like it there?"

Sara hesitated and sneaked a glance at Grissom, in deep conversation with one of the groomsmen, Gavin. "I don't know," she said slowly.

"You don't know?"

"I mean, yes, I love it there but…sometimes…it feels good to be home sometimes, you know?"

"I guess so," Del said. "I try to go home at least for Christmas."

There was a pause and Sara finally asked the question that had been on her mind since the end of the wedding, "Now, tell me who told you to look after me?"

Del kept his smile, "Oh, Sara Sidle. Ever the CSI, aren't you?"

"I want to know. You know I'll find out if you don't tell me."

"Sorry, kid, but as a lawyer, it's my job to protect my client."

"I hope you know it's common knowledge for CSIs to hate lawyers."

"I'm prepared to dispel that myth, kid, but—"

"_Why_ do you keep calling me kid? I'm older than you! Don't make me stamp on your foot."

"—I'm not a criminal lawyer, I specialize in civil rights. I represent the downtrodden, the abused. You and I would never meet up in court."

"And you're not going to tell me a damn thing, are you?"

"I swore to secrecy…kid. When the time is right, you'll surely know," Del promised. "But for now, just call me your guardian angel."

As Del and Sara left the dance floor, Grissom approached them. "You must be the famous Del," he said.

"Famous?" Del raised an eyebrow. "I don't know about that. And you are?"

"Gil Grissom," Grissom stuck out his hand for Del to shake. "Sara and I are work colleagues."

"Ah, another CSI," Del smiled at Sara. "Do you hate lawyers, too?"

"Beg pardon?" Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, little inside joke," Del said with a laugh. He shook Grissom's hand heartily. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Grissom. Sara's a lovely person. You're lucky to work with her."

"You have no idea," Grissom smiled at Sara, who blushed.

"Well, Del, I just wanted to say thank you," Grissom said sincerely. "You're truly a hero in my eyes and Sara's too, I'm sure."

It was Del's turn to blush now. "I…I'm just doing my job, sir. Defending people, that is. And Cade Sheffield is a royal fuck-head, if you'll excuse me."

"You're excused. And I couldn't agree more," Grissom gave a wry smile this time. "Please don't point this…man out, or you'll have to hold me back. If it's one thing I cannot stand, it's the abuse of women."

Sara cleared her throat. She felt unnerved by this conversation now.

"I think we're making Sara uncomfortable," Del said. "Sara, thank you for the dance." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek and whispered, "I'll never tell" as he pulled away, imitating the line from the movie. "Mr. Grissom, a privilege."

"Interesting fellow, your Del Gray," Grissom said to Sara as they watched Del return to the groomsmen's table and the game of Quarters they were heavily involved in. Del was handed a glass of beer, which he took but didn't drink. He set it back on the table and watched the game.

"He's a nice guy," agreed Sara, "but his eyes are green."

"What?" Grissom gave her a puzzled look.

Sara didn't answer. She was listening to the music. "Oh!" she said with unexpected excitement. "I _love_ this song. Dance with me, Grissom, please?"

"Hey!" came a new voice behind Sara, gently grabbing her forearm. "You didn't come all this way from Las Vegas to dance with someone you _always_ see, did you?"

Sara turned to face her smiling brother. "I assume you're offering your services?"

Wiley shrugged. "I saw you and Del, I got jealous. Mr. Grissom, may I?"

Grissom dipped his head a bit. "Be my guest."

"Isn't _Polly_ going to get jealous?" Sara joked as Wiley put his hand on the small of her back. _So, he dances like Grissom does_.

"Of who, my own little sister?" Wiley laughed as he swooped her on the floor.

"To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn, and a time to every purpose under heaven," sang the Byrds.

"I hope you're happy, Wiley," Sara said.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wiley frowned, looking like his mother.

"Well…is Polly the last?" Sara whispered.

Wiley sighed. "I hope so, Sunshine."

"A time to be born, a time to die, a time to plant, a time to reap, a time to kill, a time to heal, a time to laugh, a time to weep…"

They spotted her at the head table in her big beautiful white whicker bridal chair adorned in pink lace and ribbons. Kirya was asleep in her lap and Polexia's sister Crisli held her small son Troy, who was in as comatose a state as Kirya.

"I love her a lot," Wiley continued. They whirled past Cade dancing with Elsa. Sara avoided his gaze. "More than I've loved…you know…"

"Amber, Emily and Veronica?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"So…_why_?" Sara asked. "Why so many?"

"Because every time I thought I'd found the right one…I would be wrong. Something would do a one-eighty, as you say, and I would realize I wasn't happy anymore," Wiley sighed. "When Amber became pregnant, I couldn't wait to marry her. I knew she'd be the one I'd marry ever since we got together. Well, after Elizabeth was born, our relationship just kind of…waned. There's only so long you can stay with a person, Sunshine."

"To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn, and a time to every purpose under heaven."

"You were with Amber for only a year!"

"No, we were _married_ for a year," Wiley corrected. "We'd been together for ten years before we got married. Remember, we were high school sweethearts?"

Sara had been seven when Wiley started seeing Amber, but did remember the tall, leggy blonde cheerleader whom Sara wished she could look like. Amber had been nice enough, taking her to the beach and teaching her cat's cradle, but Sara could tell Amber didn't really like her.

"A time to build up, a time to break down, a time to dance, a time to mourn, a time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together…"

"And I'll admit," Wiley winced then, "that our divorce was completely my fault. I was seeing Emily on the side for at least six months before Amber and I split."

"_That_ I remember," agreed Sara. "You asked me to cover for you more than once."

"I'm sorry if I ever stressed you out, Sunshine," Wiley replied. "But you have to admit, my relationship with Amber was never stable, even when we were in school. On and off every other week it seemed like. I should have seen it coming."

"But what happened with Emily?" Sara asked, hungry for information. It was so rare she got to hear the inside scoop from her brother. He was pretty private when it came to his marriages and divorces but open about everything else. "You guys seemed happy enough."

"I don't exactly recall what happened with Emily. We were happy, yes. We wanted children right away. Sophie was born two years into the marriage and two years later came Megan…I don't think I can answer that one, Sunshine. I think I just woke up one morning and decided I wasn't happy. Call it a midlife crisis if you like."

"Okay."

"To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn, and a time to every purpose under heaven."

"I lived alone for a year before meeting Veronica. We married, had Kirya. I think you have a good idea why I divorced _her_."

"Pageants." Sara had known it from the beginning.

"Of course. I _hated_ those things. Kirya's my little princess, I adore her, she's an angel…but when Ronnie slapped all that makeup on her, I couldn't stand it. I told Ronnie, the pageants go or I do. I wouldn't stop supporting Kirya but if I discovered she'd spent _one cent_ of my money on those damned pageants, I'll sue her for permanent custody. She has to send me all her receipts, so I'll definitely know."

"A time of love, a time of hate, a time of war, a time of peace, a time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing…"

"After Ronnie and I were through, I did some more traveling. I went on group trips all over the world and when I went to Australia…when Polly came into my life…God, I just knew my life would never be the same."

"I hope so, Wiley. I really hope so."

Wiley's eyes swung towards Polexia. "She's just so lovely, isn't she?"

Sara craned her neck a little. Someone had taken Kirya to bed, leaving Polexia free and dancing with her father now, the pair of them smiling, talking softly. Georgia was snapping a few pictures of them. Polexia had detached her veil and Sara saw briefly that she had also taken off her shoes. She looked so happy and bright, sort of glowing, and when Sara looked back at her brother, she suddenly became crystal-clear about the thing Maaike had called "eye love". Oh, how Wiley's brown eyes were so intent on Polexia, his eyes drinking her in, lost, oblivious to anything but her…was that how Grissom looked at Sara, as Maaike had pointed out? Sara felt a tingling sensation as her own eyes swiveled towards Grissom…and damn if he wasn't staring at her the way her brother was now staring at his new wife!

"Yeah, Wiley," Sara nodded. "She's great."

And brother and sister danced like a lord and lady, beneath a white tent in the backyard of their childhood home, in the glow of the jaundiced light of what Sara knew for sure was Wiley's fourth and final wedding.

"To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn, and a time to every purpose under heaven."


	16. Sunshine

A/N: This is probably what you're all waiting for, so you better like it.

* * *

Cake was cut and eaten. A dance contest had been held and the winners received the centerpieces. There was a mad dash for the bouquet as Polexia tossed it over her shoulder. It fell into the outstretched arms of her new stepdaughter Elizabeth. One dress was ripped and one maid (Elsa, of course) had fainted from dehydration and an ambulance had to be called. The wedding was finally, mercifully over.

Meanwhile, Sara couldn't wait to get out of her dress, not to mention the sandals that had somehow grown teeth and were biting into her feet. She knew she was going to have blisters the size of Texas for days afterwards. After helping Elizabeth, Sophie and Megan tie aluminum cans and white sneakers to the bumper of the getaway car (not to mention painting _Wiley and Polly Just Married_ on the rear window) and waving off the newlyweds as they headed to the airport to board a plane to their honeymoon destination, Sara could almost taste her pajamas.

"Sara," Grissom caught her by the arm, squeezing very gently as she was limping to the family wing.

"Yeah?" she answered sleepily.

"I…I just wanted to tell you…" Grissom looked as if he was chewing his tongue.

"Gris, I hate to sound rude, but could you spit it out? I'm dead on my feet here."

"You looked stunning tonight," he revealed.

"Stunning?" Sara repeated.

"You…I didn't realize how…how good you looked in pink. I love you in pink."

Sara's breath caught in her chest. _Did he just say I love you? _"Thanks, Gris. Oh, and you in the tux? You underestimate yourself. Very suave."

Grissom chuckled a bit, "Thank you. Good night."

"'Night."

She felt his eyes on her as she opened the door of the family wing and slipped inside.

* * *

It was nearly four hours later and the dead of night. Sara's Place slept but its namesake didn't. Sara Sidle _still_ hadn't gotten out of that stupid pink dress. The sandals were off and discarded in a faraway corner as soon as she opened the door of the family wing, but she felt trapped by this dress now, this horrible garment she had dreaded wearing since the second she saw it on the hanger. She couldn't bring herself to take it off, for some reason. 

She was pacing in her room, music on low, musing over the happenings of the night. She'd found a friend in Maaike and Daphne, too. She learned that blue-eyed men were noble and a certain blue-eyed man not only had "eye love" for her and was also not a bad dancer. A twenty-nine year old usher had a secret mission of "looking out" for her. She had gotten to the bottom of Wiley's many marriages and divorces and supposedly her sixteen-year-old niece was the next bride. Oh, and Grissom had practically told her he loved her.

Sara made fists with her feet in the shag carpeting and sucked in air through her teeth. She wanted to get out of the dress, but she felt like she needed to do something first. Like…what? She wasn't hungry—no need to go to the kitchen. She wasn't cold—a sweater would not help her. Even though she was dead tired, she didn't want to go to sleep. Slipping out of the dress and crawling under the covers seemed like a chore.

She sat on her bed and stared at the clock. One in the morning. Phil and Eavan—who were one of the winners in the dance contest—were no doubt in their grand bedroom, sleeping beside one another like they always had for the past thirty-seven years. The nieces were all conked out in Wiley's old bedroom: Kirya in a cot on the floor, Sophie and Megan curled up in the big bed and Elizabeth, still clutching the bridal bouquet, in the trundle bed. Sara knew this because she had peeked in on them no less than twenty minutes ago.

She contemplated calling Nick to talk to him about the wedding and about Grissom and what Maaike had said but he would probably be right in the middle of a shift now. And Sara wasn't really in the mood to talk. She reached for _The Da Vinci Code_ and was able to read about a page before closing the book in frustration.

Sara sighed and leaned back onto the daybed. She thought about when she had danced with Grissom. How his hands had cradled her ever so gently, the quietness of his steps…how they were so close and in sync, they were almost one heartbeat. _That_ had been _amazing_. She had felt so…human, so real…

Suddenly, she felt as if she had been shot through the head with a diamond bullet. Sara's eyes went wide and she leapt off her bed. She knew what she had to do before getting out of this wretched pink dress.

Climbing the stairs with blistered feet, Sara made her way towards Gil Grissom's door. She knew he would be awake. He _had_ to be, or else her plan would be ruined. Taking a deep breath, Sara rapped on the door in rapid succession. No answer. She waited a minute and then tried again. He answered the door mid-knock. Her fist was frozen in the air.

"What?" Grissom asked, prompting her.

"Did you feel it?" Sara asked breathlessly.

"Feel what?" Grissom gave Sara his famous Look.

"When we danced…it was like we were one person. Our heartbeats were in tune with each other. Everything around us…please, Grissom, say you felt the same way?"

"Sara, you've had too much to drink. You're drunk."

Surprised, Sara shook her head. "I am very sober, Grissom, sober as you are. Just please, listen to me. It's all coming together tonight, you and me and…tonight made me realize that I love you."

Grissom remained silent. Sara continued,

"All these years that we danced around each other and tonight we stopped and danced together instead. We always came so close but backed away but tonight, we held on until the song was over. It might seem like we missed our chance after all these years but I figured out it's not true! Grissom, I'm still in love with you!"

Sara was out of breath. There. She'd said it. It was out in the open. He knew how she felt now. He could accept this or slam the door in her face and Sara wouldn't care. At least now she can get out of the dress.

"When you held me tonight," Sara had tears in her voice, "it took me back. To what we used to be. And I didn't know until you let go that I missed it so much. All I could think about after that was how I couldn't wait for you to hold me like that again."

"Sara…"

"I love you, Gil Grissom."

Grissom blinked his blue eyes a few times. That was the first time she'd ever called him Gil. It excited him. "Well," said he, after a pause, "I'll say one thing."

Sara held her breath.

"Cecilia will be delighted when she finds out."

Relief swept across Sara's angelic face as Grissom took her by the hand into his room and closed the door behind her.

They made love that night—wild, fervent love, everything they had been holding back for the past six years. Sara found it unbelievable, having Grissom all to herself. His arms, his hands, his lips. Kisses and nibbles all over her body, her fingers running through his hair, her nails digging into his back. His hands cupping her butt and his mouth around her nipples. When he entered her, swollen and rigid, Sara let out a gasp as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over her.

"What?" Grissom halted briefly, breathless.

"N-no, don't stop," Sara ordered. "Please, don't stop."

Sara clutched the headboard as ecstasy overthrew her. She gasped and moaned into the pillow beside her so she wouldn't make too much noise. The last thing she needed was the friends of her brother hearing her scream _"Oh, God, yes!"_. She and Grissom reached their climax together and Sara was so happy she could have cried.

When it was over, they lay in bed, arms around each other, hearts pounding so hard it seemed there _was_ only one, not two. It felt so surreal and Sara was afraid if she let him go, everything she'd felt before would slip away.

"God," sighed Grissom.

"Hmm," Sara said in response. She didn't want to ruin the moment by talking. She snuggled closer to him and Grissom stroked her hair tenderly.

"So tell me," Grissom said, not in the mood for silence, "how did you end up with a name like Sara Sunshine?"

"Oh," Sara said disgustedly. "Who told you about that?"

"One guess."

"Cecilia," they said simultaneously and laughed nervously.

"Sooo, how did you get the name Sara Sunshine?" Grissom pressed.

"How did you get the name Gilbert?" Sara countered. That particular name always made her think of the Johnny Depp movie _What's Eating Gilbert Grape?_ It was highly unlikely that was what Grissom was named for.

"If you must know," Grissom said, reluctantly at first, "my mother named me Gilbert, solely based on the fact that it means _noble_. For the record, my father hated it. I was supposed to end up a fourth—Bartholomew Tinford Grissom the fourth, to be exact. He was livid that my mother didn't abide by his wishes. Thank God the name will die with him if he hasn't already."

Sara had to agree, Bartholomew Tinford Grissom was a helluva mouthful.

"But my mother, the _artist_," Grissom continued, "decided her child just _had_ to have his own name, something unique. She found Gilbert in a book one day and a week later, I was so-named."

"That's beautiful," Sara smiled. "Noble."_ Marry a man with blue eyes, Daphne had said. They're more noble._

"I was named Sunshine because I wipe the clouds from the sky with my smile," she said, "or at least, that's what my dad always told me. 'Sara' is just what I call my professional name. I was named after the house."

"Ah, I see. 'Sidle on Down to Sara's Place' wasn't an accident, then."

"That stupid slogan. No, the house was called Sara's Place when my parents bought it. They were trying to think of a new title for it and when I came along, my mom wanted to make my first name Sara."

"You wipe the clouds from the sky with your smile," Grissom repeated. "I don't think I've ever heard a truer statement. When you walked back into my life six years ago...that's the first thing I thought of: a ray of sunshine."

She looked up at him and kissed him. He kissed back. They were treading on dangerous ground now, and they both knew it. The inevitable question hung over their heads: What would happen when they got back to Vegas?

"I should go back to my room," Sara said, pulling away. She shifted beneath the covers and sat up. Just as her feet hit the floor, Grissom's hand snaked up her arm and held her for a few seconds.

"Stay as long as you'd like, Sunshine."


	17. Una

A/N: "The truth about weddings…" is a short passage stolen from Jen Sincero's _Don't Sleep With Your Drummer_.

* * *

Grissom was gone when Sara woke up the next morning. Or rather, afternoon. According to the clock on the bedside table, it was nearly noon. 

"Shit!" exclaimed Sara. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

She scrambled out of the bed and noticed all of Grissom's thing were gone—suitcases, toiletries, clothes. He wasn't just _gone_, he'd _left_!

Sara was heartbroken. He didn't even say good-bye! Didn't wake her up to tell her he was leaving! She felt betrayed and cheap, like a hooker stuck with the hotel bill.

"Just one more reason to hate him," she said aloud, gathering up the now-rumpled pink dress.

She managed to sneak downstairs in her bra and panties, clutching the dress to her body. The house felt hollow, empty, and Sara was sure most if not all of the guests had checked out.

The family wing seemed like a long way away from the bottom of the staircase. What if she was seen? How would she explain?

Deciding to risk it. She made a mad dash across the hall and skidded into the living room. Empty. Out of the large storybook window, Sara spotted her parents, but, thankfully, they didn't spot her. They were sitting in their lounge chairs on the deck, backs to the room; her mother on the cordless phone (probably gabbing with one of her sisters long-distance about the wedding) and her father was immersed in the newspaper.

Sighing with relief, Sara slipped unnoticed into the family wing and closed the double doors behind her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and blood pounded in her ears. She quickly went back to her own bedroom, where her knees went week and she let herself fall to the floor.

I had sex with Grissom. I_ had _sex_ with _Grissom_. Why does that sound…wrong? _She thought to herself as she slipped into clean underwear, a pair of fresh jeans and a camo-print baby tee. Her plan was to join her parents on the porch and act like nothing was wrong and she wasn't having a nervous-breakdown-morning-after scenario. Or that she didn't have sex with Grissom last night.

Sara went into the bathroom to scour off the makeup residue with a hot washcloth and a harsh exfoliating facial scrub before strolling casually onto the deck. Eavan was talking with a sister, while Phil was checking up on the want ads. A red marker was clutched between his teeth like a dog offering his master a stick and Sara saw he was circling ads about used lawn mowers. Again he was wearing only a pair of cutoff jeans and his silver peace sign glinted in the afternoon sun.

"…insisted on red velvet cake, but Cecilia put her foot down," Eavan was saying. She acknowledged Sara with a smile and a nod. She wore a lightweight dress the color of tea and over her gray eyes were a pair of John Lennon sunglasses with pink lenses. "I _know_! I know, it's just _not_ appropriate for a wedding, so they went with chocolate and raspberry crème instead. Hang on, Una, Sunshine just woke up." Eavan covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "Sunshine, it's Aunt Una, do you want to talk to her, say hi?"

Sara made a face and shook her head. Her aunt Una, who was one year older than her mother, was too much of a gossipmonger for her taste. She had four children and two grandsons and always had the holy trinity ready to dispense at Sara: "When are you going to get married?" "When are you going to have kids?" and the ever-popular "Are you still at that forensics job?".

Eavan shrugged and continued to speak with her sister, "Of course, Polly _insisted_ on pink for the bridesmaids…"

"Don't you love how she's running up my phone bill?" Phil said sarcastically as he circled his third ad. "Blah-de-blah-de-blah. Gag me." Phil himself had a brother and two sisters that were all still in California. But his wife's eleven siblings scattered all over the country, plus one in Hawaii and one in Ireland. It seemed like they _never_ got off the phone. He pushed a large ceramic bowl of fruit towards Sara, who laughed as she took an tangerine from the bowl and began to peel the skin in one long skein.

"Shut _up_, you dumb old hippie," Eavan snapped playfully. "No, Una, I wasn't talking to _you_!"

Phil peaked from behind his paper and made faces at his wife, who ignored them but fought giggles herself.

"Una, I'm going to have to call you back," Eavan replied. "No, no, I'm not trying to get you off the phone. Sunshine's here, she's leaving today. Of _course_ she came! Wiley made her a bridesmaid. What? She doesn't want—ok_ay_, ok_ay_. Sunshine," Eavan covered the mouthpiece again and rolled her eyes, "Una _needs_ to talk to you."

"_Does_ she?" Sara mimicked her mother's tone of voice. "Fine. She's probably having heart palpitations all the way up in Oregon."

"I heard that!" Una exclaimed once Sara had the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Aunt Una."

"Well, well, well. Look who crawled out of the Las Vegas shithole," spat Una. Sara hadn't talked to Una since four years ago when Sara hadn't attended her cousin Robby's wedding. "Are you still _in_ Las Vegas?"

There was one. "Yes, I am. How are you?" Sara feigned cheerfulness.

"Oh, I'm just fine. How are you? Married yet?"

There was two. "No, not yet, Aunt Una. Haven't found the right guy yet. I'm always at work, you know."

"Ah, well…you have a lot of catching up to do. Robby and Jenna just had little Colin, of course; and Erica and Noah's Nathaniel will be four next month. Wiley just got married for the fourth time _and_ he's got four daughters. You know, you really _ought_ to have a baby, Sunshine. It might help you grow up a bit…"

Ah, there was the third one. "Yeah right. Right after I vacuum the living room in pearls and call myself Donna Reed."

"Don't be sarcastic. Men don't like that in their women."

One man I know does. "I have to go, Aunt Una. I…I'm getting something on my pager, it's from my boss. Here's my mom again. Bye!" Sara shoved the phone into Eavan's hands quickly.

"I told you, Una. Okay. Okay, yes, I'll tell Bridgie next time I talk to her," Eavan rolled her eyes. Sara knew what this look was for: Eavan was constantly the referee between her sisters Ua and Bridgie, who had an outstanding feud going on eight years. "I'll email you that recipe as soon as I can. Good-bye." Eavan pressed the off button so hard Sara heard her finger crack. She plopped the phone into her lap and reached into the fruit bowl for a strawberry. "Ah, it's nice to relax now that it's all over. I forgot how tiring weddings could be."

"Only when you put too much emphasis on it. The truth about weddings is a wedding is a wedding. No matter how much cash you put into decorating, getting a great band, serving interesting food…you'll always feel like you're just at another wedding. Just save it for the damn honeymoon," Phil said. "See, our wedding was planned in one week."

"We also had no money," his wife reminded him. "We were saving up for this place."

"Money or no money, I bet our wedding would have turned out the same."

Sara sat cross-legged on the deck between her parents' lawn chairs and propped up her head in her hands. She loved to hear about their wedding, ever since she was a little girl.

"Right on the beach before the tide came in at sundown," sighed Eavan, plucking the bitter green leaves from the top of another strawberry. "I wore a white dress I'd made myself and the hippie over here wore his bathing suit."

"I most certainly did not! I wore jeans," Phil corrected.

"Well, excuse me. The groom wore jeans. And our friend Celeste did the ceremony. Our best friends Willow and Dennis were the maid of honor and best man. We had maybe a dozen or so guests. After the ceremony we had a bonfire and ate food we cooked ourselves. We all wore flowers in our hair and whatever clothes we wanted, no silly dresses."

"I'm glad I wasn't the only one who thought those dresses were silly," Sara said.

Phil chuckled, "Pepto-Bismol pink."

"Did I say that aloud?" Sara asked.

"Didn't have to. It was written on your forehead." That was her father's way of saying her face said it all.

"When I get back to Vegas, I'm gonna have a bonfire for _that_ thing," joked Sara.

"Oh, don't be cruel," Eavan chastised over Phil's laugher. "You never know when you're going to need a dress like that again."

"Yeah, you're right. But Halloween's not for a few more months," Sara remarked, which sent Phil into howling laughter again.

"What am I going to do with you two?" Eavan shook her head.

"So I guess I missed the great chaos of checkout?" asked Sara once Phil's laughter had died down.

"Oh, yeah, long time ago," Eavan said. "Polly and Wiley are on their way to Fiji right now; Cecilia's on her way back to Seattle. Elizabeth should be back in Georgia shortly and Sophie and Megan are home already. Veronica picked up Kirya early, something about beauty boot camp. Your Mr. Grissom was the very last to leave, Sunshine."

Sara choked on her tangerine. "Really?"

"Yup," Phil said. "He wanted to wait for you to wake up but it got too late and he had to get back to Vegas."

"Oh…"

"He told me to tell you to come in late tomorrow, though."

"Which means you don't have to go rushing off!" Eavan said brightly. "Stay for dinner, Sunshine."

"It might be too late," Sara said, in a far-off place. "Besides, don't you have some guests coming?"

"Only three or four," Eavan replied, stroking her daughter's arm affectionately, "and not until late tonight or tomorrow morning. Why don't you stay? I'll make that veggie lasagna you love."

Oh, did her mom know how to push the right buttons! Perhaps Wiley had learned some of his charm from his stepmother. "If I stay I'll have to leave _right_ _after_ dinner."

"Of course," Phil nodded.

"Then I guess I'll stay," Sara said with a smile.

"Good," Eavan returned the grin. "That's wonderful."


	18. Del

"Hey, Sara! Welcome back!" Greg Sanders was the first to greet Sara as she strode down the hallway of CSI on Monday night—the first time in ten days. She gave a smile and a wave and kept walking.

"The return of Sara Sidle!" exclaimed Warrick, wrapping his massive brown arms around Sara in a friendly hug. "It's been too quiet without you here."

"Nobody here to take Grissom down a notch," agreed Nick.

"You have Catherine for that," Sara joked.

She and Nick settled in the break room, just relaxing. The air conditioning was delicious, stronger than the one at Sara's Place. Even though it had been somewhat of a vacation for Sara, she felt like relaxing was the only thing she _didn't_ do.

"So, where did you go?" Catherine asked, coming into the room. She made a beeline for the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.

"To visit my parents," said Sara, putting a hand up to decline the coffee that Catherine held out to her.

"And," Nick said, a sly smile spreading across his mouth like jam on a hot roll, "to walk down the aisle."

Catherine nearly dropped her cup. "What?"

"NICK!" Sara exclaimed, standing up. "You promised!"

"I promised I'd keep it a secret while you were away," Nick held his hands up in defense. "You didn't say a damn thing about when you got back!"

"Walked down the aisle?" Catherine repeated. "Sara…you didn't…I mean, you didn't get _married_, _did_ you?"

"No!" Sara tugged at her hair. "I…I went to my brother's wedding."

"She didn't just go," Nick chirped up. "She was a bridesmaid!" From his pocket he pulled the familiar yellow Kodak packet from a pocket inside his Swiss Army shirt. He tossed it onto the table and sat back, smiling.

Sara lunged for them and opened the flap, turning her back to hide them from Catherine. Something told her Nick had already seen them. Yup, there she was, in all her Pepto-Bismol glory, like a piece of cotton candy strangled in silk—gliding down the strip of carpet on Del Gray's arm, standing beside Lilith Rodriguez in the party as Polexia came down the aisle, posing for the formal pictures and dancing with Del, Wiley and, to her horror, Grissom.

"Where did you get these?" Sara asked, waving the pictures in front of Nick.

"I told you, I know people. People with _cameras_," Nick smiled slyly. "Especially one Delmore Charles Gray."

"DEL?!" Sara could hardly believe her ears. So, it all made sense now! She looked back down at the one picture of her and Del on the dance floor. It was _Nick_ who had told Del to look out for her! "How the hell do you know _Del_?"

"Who's Del?" asked Catherine, who was ignored.

"I'm tellin' you, Sara, the Stokes' and the Grays' are tight. Like this!" Nick crossed his middle and forefinger to illustrate his point. "Our parents were both on the side of the law, known each other for years. I knew Del when he was in diapers."

"I can't believe it. I can't freakin' believe it."

"Call it, six degrees of separation."

"Call it, Nick Stokes you are a dead man!"

"If you kids don't stop fighting this instant, I'm turning this car around and nobody's going anywhere," Catherine had to jump in to keep Sara from pouncing on Nick, which she looked like she was about to do any second. "What's going on?"

"Absolutely nothing," Nick snatched the photos out of Sara's hand. "Here."

To Sara's dismay, Nick handed the photos to Catherine just as Warrick walked into the room.

"Pictures from vacation, Sara?" Warrick asked.

"You could say that!" Nick announced.

Sara gritted her teeth. "Nick, if you say one more word, I'll snatch your tongue out of your mouth."

Nick was unfazed. "Pretty big talker for someone who once wore a dress like that."

"Now, I have some ugly ones in my closet," Catherine said, staring at the photographs. "However, I've never been forced to wear bubblegum pink. Neon orange and olive green, sure, but I've never had the pleasure of pink. Thank God."

Sara sank into her chair again and groaned.

"You look good in pink!" Catherine said quickly, trying to rectify the situation. "It makes your cheeks—oh my God…_Gil_?"

"Is that Grissom in a tux?" Warrick peered over Catherine's shoulder. "And dancing with Sara? When was this taken?"

"My brother's wedding on Saturday. That's where I was this past week," Sara said, defeated. "He made me a bridesmaid. Turns out Grissom's mother and Wiley's mother are friendly."

"That rat!" Catherine exclaimed. "Why didn't he tell me he was going to a wedding?"

"He's not a wedding person," Sara replied.

"He told me he was going to a seminar. I should have known that was bullshit. There were no forensic or entomology seminars anywhere in the tri-state area. I should have known!"

"He's a good dancer," Sara said softly.

"Yeah, well, his mother taught him," Catherine replied. "She liked little Gil to be a proper gentleman."

"I can't believe Del would do this," Sara mumbled.

"I asked him to," Nick assured her.

"He was such a sweet guy."

"He called me after the wedding. The dude's crazy for you. Got himself a little Greg Sanders-esque crush on you."

"Great," she said wryly.

"It's not so bad, Sunshine," Nick beamed. He was content in his victory.

"Stokes, I _will_ kill you."

"Did you just call her 'Sunshine'?" Warrick laughed. "Yeah, Sara Sidle, CSI's little ray of sunshine. I like that, Nicky, I like that."

Unable to stand another moment of this, Sara pushed her chair away from the table and went to go find Grissom. She had a few questions he might be able to answer for her, particularly about the night of the wedding and the Sunday morning when he had left her. When she approached his office, the door was shut and locked. Well, a whole lot of good that did. Not wanting to go back to the break room where she supposed Nick, Catherine and Warrick were still laughing at the wedding pictures, Sara decided to visit with her favorite rookie.

"Hey Greg," Sara said as she sat down in one of Greg's swivel chairs in the lab.

He peered out over the rim of his skateboarding magazine, "Hey."

"How's it been? Any interesting cases while I was gone?" she asked, eager to talk about anything but her "vacation".

Greg knitted his eyebrows. "One," he answered. "A guy said his wife tripped down the basement stairs…turns out she'd been there for four days and he had just now discovered her."

"Cock-and-bull story if I've ever heard one."

"You know it. Turns out _he'd_ tripped her up and hid her body. The guy'd been abusing her for years and went a little too far one day."

"You got him, right?"

"You know it, Sar."

She smiled. Her little boy was growing up. "What'd he use?"

"Oh, just his hands. Left nice bruises on her back, shaped like so. Her body was a mess."

"Well, at least now everything's straightened out. Good job."

"Thanks!" Greg said eagerly and returned to his magazine. Sara listened to the quiet buzz of some of the machines in the lab. She sighed and sat back.

"So, Greg," Sara said slowly at first. "Did you know my middle name is Sunshine?"

"Really?" Greg smiled behind his magazine. "It suits you."

FIN


	19. Epilogue

A/N: To my dearest, faithful fans (a.k.a. anyone who's ever reviewed this story—those of you who read and didn't…pfft on you), you guys have been so nice to me with all your reviews. _Sidle On Down To Sara's Place_ was my first Sara-Grissom fluff and I had so much fun writing it (especially the naughty bits). I was always so terrified of writing sexy scenes that I've avoided them altogether…until now! Anyway, I'm the World's Biggest Procrastinator and all your reviews pushed me to finish until, "Hey! I finished a story!". Anyway, I'm putting these songs as the epilogue because, well, what else is there to tell? I thought it would be funny to pair these two songs together, "Leaving Las Vegas" and "Going to California", because, well, that's what Sara did! I thank you again for your loyalty…as _Sidle On Down To Sara's Place_ comes to a close…

LEAVIN' LAS VEGAS by Sheryl Crow

Life springs eternal  
On a gaudy neon street  
Not that I care at all  
I spent the best part of my losing streak  
In an Army Jeep  
For what I can't recall  
Oh I'm banging on my TV set  
And I check the odds  
And I place my bet  
I pour a drink  
And I pull the blind  
And I wonder what I'll find  
  
I'm leaving Las Vegas  
Lights so bright  
Palm sweat, blackjack  
On a Saturday night  
Leaving Las Vegas  
Leaving for good, for good  
I'm leaving for good  
I'm leaving for good  
  
Used to be I could drive up to  
Barstow for the night  
Find some crossroad trucker  
To demonstrate his might  
But these days it seems  
Nowhere is far enough away  
So I'm leaving Las Vegas today  
  
I'm leaving Las Vegas  
Lights so bright  
Palm sweat, blackjack  
On a Saturday night  
Leaving Las Vegas  
Leaving for good, for good  
I'm leaving for good  
I'm leaving for good  
  
I'm standing in the middle of the desert  
Waiting for my ship to come in  
But now no joker, no jack, no king  
Can take this loser hand  
And make it win  
  
I'm leaving Las Vegas  
Lights so bright  
Palm sweat, blackjack  
On a Saturday night  
Leaving Las Vegas  
Leaving for good, for good  
I'm leaving for good  
I'm leaving for good  
  
I quit my job as a dancer  
At the Lido Des Girls  
Dealing blackjack until one or two  
Such a muddy line between  
The things you want  
And the things you have to do  
  
I'm leaving Las Vegas  
Lights so bright  
Palm sweat, blackjack  
On a Saturday night  
Leaving Las Vegas  
Leaving for good, for good  
I'm leaving for good  
I'm leaving for good  
  
I'm leaving Las Vegas  
And I won't be back  
No I won't be back  
Not this time

* * *

GOIN TO CALIFORNIA by P!NK

I'm goin' to California  
To live in the summer sun  
The streets are made of silver  
I'm like a rabbit on the run  
Philadelphia freedom  
Well its not like you have heard, no, no, no  
This city of brotherly love  
Is full of pain and hurt  
  
I'm goin' to California  
To find my pot of gold  
Corruption on every corner  
Hustlers sellin' sweets  
Baby is home cryin'  
While her mom is on the streets  
Everybody's dyin'  
Have you heard the news today?  
A woman in north Philly is mournin'  
A bullet took another son away  
  
I'm goin to California  
I'm goin far, far, far away  
  
Goin' to California, yes  
To resurrect my soul  
The sun is always shinin', shinin'  
Or at least that's what I'm told  
I'm goin' to California  
There's a better life for me, yes  
Goin' to California  
I'll write and tell you what I see  
I'm goin' to California  
Somebody say a prayer for me

* * *

And a big PS ... nobody noticed my big joke with myself, probably because I'm a loser who watches too much TV but nobody noticed that the last names of all of Polly's bridesmaids were the same as the Fab Five from _Queer Eye For The Straight Guy_: (Ted/Daphne) Allen, (Kyan/Maaike) Douglas, (Thom/Honore) Felicia, (Carson/Elsa) Kressley and (Jai/Lilith) Rodriguez. I thought someone would pick up on that right away. LOL! I guess I was wrong! Thanks again for reading!

PPS: watch out for my next fic, _Doorstep Baby_, coming out next week!


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